


The Eternal Night

by Munchkin47



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Blood and Violence, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 83,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munchkin47/pseuds/Munchkin47
Summary: As a valued member of the Coven of Bahamut, all Ignis Scientia wanted was to cement his soul bonds with his pack. But as his own manifestation draws close, a chain of events begins to turn the giant cogwheels of fate, and he will find himself adjusting to a new identity and reality.Vampires + A/O dynamics.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Ravus Nox Fleuret/Ignis Scientia, Titus Drautos | Glauca/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 163
Kudos: 252





	1. Conferment

**Author's Note:**

> Feel terrible that I wrote this, but apparently not enough to refrain from posting it!?!? #sorrynotsorry. I consider this like a fucked-up monster mashup of tropes - vampires and alpha/omega dynamics. Consider yourself lucky I didn't throw in pirates or werewolves. There is a paper-thin plot, but pretty much bracketed by lots of nonsense, rough rapey-ish vampire sex. 
> 
> This is Ignis x Everybody but the kitchen sink, because I love Iggy, and he won't break no matter what I do to him. 
> 
> Now if that hasn't warned you off, please mind the trigger warnings. Or better yet, maybe go read something else?

He sits on the edge of bed and stretches slowly. It is not like he needs to, not since he was reborn into this preternatural body, where is it now devoid of the usual human weaknesses. Where human blood once flowed thickly inside of him, it is now replaced with blood from the royal bloodline, life-sustaining and powerful. If he is quiet enough, he can hear his heart steadily pumping, and the pull of magic in his veins. But his human practices and habits still stay with him, comfort in their predictability. It might have been nearly ten years now, but sometimes, if he can stretch his mind back far enough, he can still remember how it was like to be human.

But although muscle aches and soreness are a thing of the past, pain is not. Last night he had been subjected to a particularly vicious and vigorous session with the prince, and he had chalked it up to Noctis being in a high state of anxiety. Ignis didn’t blame him. Even he could feel a thread of disquiet humming under his skin, and Ignis was usually known as the unflappable one. He runs fingers down the side of his neck, where the puncture marks from Noctis’s bite had healed over, but not very well. It stings a little, but Ignis ignores it. It will heal soon enough.

He turns to the sleeping body next to him, and runs his fingers down Noctis’s beard. Ignis reminds himself to assist Noctis with his grooming today, because of all days, today’s conferment ceremony holds a certain sanctity, sacred and ancient, and the prince would be served better by a neater appearance.

He is looking more and more like the king each day, Ignis muses. He is about thirty years old in appearance, but Noctis has been alive much longer than that. ‘Wake up, Noct,’ he says quietly.

Noctis groans. ‘What … is it evening already?’

Ignis looks at the orange-tinged horizon outside the windows. ‘Yes, Your Highness. Time to wake up, and get dressed.’

Noctis sits up slowly, groggy as hell, but not confused enough to remember the matter at hand. ‘Prompto,’ he says.

‘I’m sure he’s already getting ready for the ceremony,’ Ignis says. ‘I’ve specifically instructed Gladio to wake Prompto up early and make sure he looks presentable. And besides, it’s not as if Prompto’s anything like you.’

Noctis yawns. ‘Well put together and good-looking?’

‘Naturally,’ Ignis deadpans. ‘Come along now, Noct. Get into the bathroom and I’ll see what I can do about that terrible facial hair of yours.’

‘You said you liked it!’ Noctis says, his hand moving self-consciously to his beard.

‘I did,’ Ignis says. ‘When I’m in the mood to be jumped by a homeless person.’

‘Ooh, someone’s cranky today,’ Noctis smiles easily, and Ignis turns away. But Noctis captures his wrist in a vise-like grip, forcing him to turn to face the alpha. There is a deep strength underneath all that casual laziness, Ignis knows. And when Noctis is serious, like he is now, Ignis has no choice but to pay complete attention. ‘You’re not anxious about today, are you?’

‘No,’ Ignis says. It’s true. ‘My time will come. In fact, it’s coming soon. I just hope … I am simply hoping that the prophecy will come true, and you will obtain what you have always needed.’

‘We, Iggy,’ Noctis corrects him. ‘All we need. We are a pack, Ignis, never forget that.’

‘Yes, I am sorry,’ Ignis says. It is an oversight, but a natural one. Because as much as they are a pack, two of the pack members have yet to have their biology conferred on them, and their bonds aren’t yet official. Although today Prompto will receive his, and with any luck, Prompto will be the omega they have waited for all along.

But what is he isn’t? Ignis shushes the small voice in the back of his head. There is no other alternative, really. Ignis may not have his official conferment yet, but he’s been marked as an alpha the moment he turned. He carries great strength and grace within him, and his instincts to protect and care for are often in overdrive. If anything, he was born to be an alpha. There’s a slight chance in a cold hell that he might manifest as an omega.

Prompto, on the other hand, while not delicate, has a very different constitution from him. His frame has always been slight, small and quick. That may not be the most reliable indicator, but historical records generally noted that omegas are usually smaller and more vulnerable in order to rouse protectiveness in their alphas, and also in their compelling presence and sweet scents. In saying that, Prompto is by no means vulnerable. He has stamina and speed, and he is the quickest draw of all of them, save Noctis. Ignis has seen him pull his guns from the Armiger, reload and fire off a whole round before he has swung the first of his daggers.

But Prompto is also sweet and loving, not quiet by any means, and he is literally sunshine personified. His sunny personality meant that he was the glue that bonds the group together – he is the exuberance to Noctis’s indolence, the joy to Gladio’s sedateness, and the energy to Ignis’s calm. When Noctis had turned Prompto exactly ten years ago today, Ignis had his reservations, but it turned out that he had worried for nothing. His love for Prompto had only deepened in the ten years, and the pack had been as stable as ever.

The way he fit into their lives, he had all the hallmarks of being the perfect omega. He would be the perfect addition in a pack of three alphas, who could all protect him. Omegas, after all, were so rare they were in danger of dying out. Omegas were the only way vampire covens could reproduce the next generation, but they manifested so uncommonly that the future of the vampiric race was now at risk. They could keep turning the handful of humans left on Eos, but without an omega, they would die out within this generation.

Many years ago, the Oracle of Tenebrae had seen into their future, and had proclaimed that there was an omega currently manifesting within the coven itself. The Coven of Bahamut was headed by the royal bloodline of Lucis, an old and ancient pureblood vampire family, and they were seeking a means to continue the next generation. At that time, Prompto and Ignis had just been turned, and as the only current unmanifested members, it remained a strong possibility it was going to be one of them. And even Ignis himself had put money on Prompto.

Prompto embraced this possibility with grace and joyful acceptance. He looked forward to his own manifestation, and he wanted to serve the coven that had saved him from a painful mortal death. He might have three alphas, but the reality was that he would most likely carry Noctis’s young, as the royal bloodline was the one that needed extending first, as a priority.

But there is no guarantee that Prompto is their omega, even with the weight of the entire coven’s expectations on his thin shoulders. But Ignis has faith. And he is very rarely wrong.

He hopes that the day goes to plan. Prompto manifests as omega at his conferment ceremony, and by tomorrow he will be bonded permanently to the pack. And if Ignis is the only one who has yet to manifest or bond, what does it matter? His turn will come. He is not worried.

He helps Noctis get dressed, and give his facial hair a meticulous grooming. As the years go by, Ignis can see the strong resemblance to his father, which is not a bad look at all. Noctis has his father’s handsome dignity, with the added bonus of an indescribable erotic allure in his strong jaw, in his compact body.

Noctis grips his hips and pulls him close, their lips pressing together in a surprisingly gentle kiss. ‘Are you sure you will be OK for today?’ Noctis asks again. He knows Noctis is concerned about how Ignis could possibly feel left out of today’s proceedings.

‘I know you’re worried about me,’ Ignis says, nuzzling close to Noctis. ‘I know that I am loved. By all of you. Today is about Prompto. The poor darling is probably feeling nervous, so it’s best if you seek him out and see if you can help ease back the worst of his anxiety.’

‘I will,’ Noctis promises, then straightens the lapels of black, tailored jacket. ‘I want you to stay close.’

‘Always,’ Ignis promises him in return. His loyalty is first and foremost to his liege, the man he serves with his whole body and heart. He will not stray far, whether Noctis needs him or not. From the moment that Ignis was brought home to the coven to be Noctis’s human companion, he knew that his destiny would be forever tied to this sweet boy brimming with so much preternatural power.

The coven is already brimming with activity so early in the evening. Tonight is a night of extraordinary significance, and the Citadel is lit up and the energy in the building is calm but busy. The conferment room is ready, and when the ceremony gets underway the tension in the atmosphere becomes almost palpable, a real weight on their chests, a stranglehold around their necks.

The conferment room is a room of black marble with a small pool in the middle of the room, and an enormous sword of gold fixed into the stone floor of the pool, a mark of Bahamut’s grace and favor upon their coven. Prompto comes in, his body cleansed and unscented, clad in a simple white shift that represents his purity, as well as the rebirth that he will undertake as he manifests.

The room is crowded with all the people deemed important and essential to the ruling of the coven, and all of them kneel on the floor. Noctis kneels right in front of the sword, with his father close behind him. Gladiolus was on his other side. And while he was part of Noctis’s pack, he is not considered an official member as long he has not manifested and bonded. Just a little bit more, he tells himself patiently. Instead, he finds that Cor has saved him a spot a few rows behind Noctis, and he gets on his knees.

Ignis watches Prompto with a pang of pain. The poor darling is trembling. Vampires no longer feared the cold, but fear could still bring them back to that very human trait. His blond hair was like a halo around his pale skin, and those violet-blue eyes were so big and beautiful, like a hunted deer’s. Ignis wants to go up to him and give him a hug, but he knows this is Prompto’s journey.

He watches as Prompto gingerly lowers himself into the pool water, where it comes up to his waist. Then Regis puts a hand on his son’s shoulder, and Gladio puts his hand on the other. Cor puts his hand on Clarus, who puts it on Gladio’s. So on, and so forth, until everyone in the room save Prompto were all connected by touch. And when Noctis pulls all that power forth, it manifests into a sparkling, electric blue energy in the air. Noctis channels that amassed energy into himself, and wraps his left hand around the blade of the sword. The scent of thick, rich blood fills the room.

Ignis’s nostrils flare at that scent, which is so familiar and loved to him as Noctis’s bonded. Their soul bond may not have been completed, but the pull is powerful and undeniable. With the sacrifice of magic and blood, the golden black sword in the water glows with energy.

Prompto looks ready. He steps forward, and places both hands on the hilt of the sword.

There is a blinding blue light that Ignis’s eyes have no choice but to close against. In his mind’s eyes, he hopes that when he opens them, Prompto will still be standing. During the conferment ceremony, only the omega remains standing. Everyone else is forced by the invisible hand of submission to their knees. It is representative of the true dynamic between the alpha and the omega. The alpha protects and serves, but the omega is truly the master of them all, because only in them life is possible.

When the pain behind his eyes subside, he opens his eyes. And holds his breath.

Prompto is standing.

Ignis lets out a small cry of relief and gratitude, and squeezes his eyes shut against the flood of tears that emerge involuntarily. The flood of joy inside of him is mirrored by his fellow vampires inside the room, who know now that there is now a possibility of a future for their coven. The last omega that manifested was Noctis’s mother, who had only managed to birth one child before succumbing to an early death because of her weak constitution.

Noctis scrambles onto his feet, as does Gladio. But Noctis reaches Prompto first, splashing in an ungainly manner into the water, where he yanks Prompto into his fierce embrace. Gladiolus wraps the both of them in his massive arms. Happiness fills the room as a sweet floral scent, like freshly cut flowers, invades the air. He can smell notes of rose, and as a man who holds a half-bond with Prompto, the scent is deeply alluring. He can only imagine what it will do to all of them when the soul bond is complete.

The vampires around him are celebrating this good news, and Cor helps him to his feet. ‘Congratulations,’ he says quietly to Ignis.

‘Thank you,’ Ignis says. He walks over to his pack, where they are just coming out of the water with Prompto.

‘Come here, you,’ Noctis says, his voice gruff with emotion. Ignis walks into their embrace, and he feels Gladio press a hard kiss to the top of his head. He lifts his head slightly as Prompto clutches him tight around the waist.

‘I did it,’ Prompto whispers against Ignis’s chest.

‘You’ve done it,’ Ignis affirms, stroking Prompto’s yellow, downy hair. ‘I’m so incredibly proud of you.’

‘Once you’ve manifested too, Iggy, we’ll be a real family,’ Gladio says, nuzzling affectionately at Prompto’s neck. ‘Us three alphas, and our beautiful little omega.’

Ignis squeezes Prompto back. ‘Yes,’ he says, breathing in that gorgeous floral scent. He can feel that half-bond inside of him, yearning desperately for completion. Just a little longer now, he tells himself, drawing on that well of patience and self-control. He was turned a mere week after Prompto. Only a week. He’s waited for nearly ten years now. He can wait a week.

Gladiolus lets them all out of his bear grip, and looks at Prompto with deep affection. ‘Tomorrow’s going to be a beautiful night to cement our soul bonds.’

The joy and pleasure in Prompto’s eyes is so beautiful that is it more than enough to smother Ignis’s petty sentiments. Was it jealousy that Prompto would now join the pack official once he seals his bond with Gladio and Noctis? Or was it sadness for himself because he was still on the outside, now that Prompto had gone and left him behind?

He feels Noctis’s hand against his back, stiff with concern. He looks at Noctis, and squeezes hand in reassurance. Noctis’s heart is so big and generous, and this is not the time to bother him with his own petty worries.

‘It will be perfect,’ Ignis says, and means it.


	2. Lull

The feelings of joy and contentment buoyed him into the next day. Now that an omega had manifested in their midst and the foretold prophecy had come true, the entire coven seemed to think it was some kind of unofficial holiday. King Regis had been so pleased that he had allowed festivities to take place, as well as a general slacking across the board. Even hunting restrictions were relaxed for a day.

The manifestation of an omega meant that the royal bloodline could be continued, and one day the pitter patter of little vampire feet would be heard in the hallowed halls of the Citadel. In the darkness brought by the constant warring between covens, this was news that brought unparalleled joy. For one day, they could forget that Lucis was on the verge of losing a war, albeit a slow and excruciating one. Regis’s powers in erecting the Wall could only hold out against the Niflheim Empire for so long.

The Nifs were helmed by the Coven of Ifrit, and they had long dabbled in darker magic, far beyond the fire magic they had been gifted by their Astral. They had built soulless machine, crafted from forbidden magiteknology. These MTs, or Magitek Troopers, were relentless in their hunts for both vampire and human. They did not discriminate, nor did they tire, or did they have mercy. They simply slaughtered everything in their path.

The Coven of Bahamut had been forced back to Insomnia, withdrawing their influence over the rest of Lucian territory. It had been a necessary sacrifice – their numbers were incredibly low, and they had no choice but to retreat. The Wall that had been erected over Insomnia was powerful, but it also drained Regis of his vitality and his lifespan, no doubt.

Vampires are not immortals. They are much more powerful than humans, and gifted with destructive magic. But their natural lifespans are centuries, not the immortality of legend. Immortality sounded more like a curse than anything.

The Wall seemed to have stopped Niflheim in their tracks, for the last eight years or so. But it had taken an incredible toll, not to mention a great burden, one that Ignis was deeply afraid would one day be Noctis’s to bear.

Ignis finishes the council meeting chaired by Noctis, who is gradually taking over his father’s duties. There’s not much on the table, not when everyone is in a celebratory mood. Even Noctis’s usual quiet indolence is replaced by an irrepressible smile on his face. Ignis has had to shoot him a couple of dirty glances every now and then to yank him back on course.

When the meeting is over, Noctis requests that Ignis stays behind. Ignis sits back down, tidies up his folders as he waits for everyone else to file out of the room. A few council members that have not been able to speak personally to him pat Noctis’s shoulder on the way out, congratulating him on Prompto’s successful conferment. Noctis sits up a little straighter, a smile hovering around his lips as he receives their words with grace.

Ignis is proud of him. He will make a good king.

Behind Noctis, his Shield closes the door. Gladiolus comes to sit at the table, between Noctis and Ignis. ‘I wanted to ask for your opinion, Iggy.’

‘Yes?’ Ignis pushes up his glasses even though it needs no adjusting. What was with his serious tone all of a sudden? Was he going to ask Ignis to stay out of tonight’s bonding? Surely not …? Ignis couldn’t help but stiffen in apprehension.

‘I was wondering if we should perform the bonding tonight, when perhaps we could take advantage of Prompto’s upcoming heat.’

Ignis vetoes that immediately. ‘You want him to have full consent during the bonding, Noctis. It’s his first heat, so it would be overwhelming and unfamiliar. It will be uncomfortable enough without the added complication of the completion of a soul bond.’

‘I know,’ Noctis says glumly. ‘I just don’t want him to … be in pain.’

Ignis sighs. He understands full well what Noctis’s intentions are. An omega’s heat at its peak is an intensely inebriated state where their instincts overpower their thought process, where pain becomes nothing in the pursuit of pleasure. Omegas would have their first heat within three to five days of their manifestation, and follow that with a heat every couple of months. But once bonded, the heat would only happen once every six months.

The idea of the soul bond was intensely romantic, but reality was often less forgiving. While the outcome was undoubtedly magical, the process itself could only be described with one word: excruciating. In terms of pain levels, that was. For a completed soul bond to snap into place required a high level of commitment and an inhuman tolerance of pain. It was painful to establish, and equally painful to rend apart, which was why he rarely, if ever, heard of cases where soul bond were torn apart.

When Noctis and Gladiolus completed their soul bond some twenty years ago, the pain had intense. Noctis had screamed and then passed out promptly, and Gladiolus was barely any better. When asked about it, all Noctis could say was that he had never felt such pain before. It was a high price to pay, but one that he would gladly pay anyway.

They had decided to put Prompto through the pain once, and it would be done. Noctis and Gladiolus would both complete the soul bond with Prompto at the same time. For Ignis himself, as the last unmanifested, he was concerned about what was to come. With all three of them completing their soul bonds with him at once, he was rather certain he was going to pass out from the pain or die from it.

But it is still a price he was willing to pay. His love for these three men is boundless, and he wants the assurance of the completed soul bond inside of him.

‘I think Prompto is prepared for it,’ Ignis says quietly. ‘He will be fine, like you two have been fine after your completed bond.’

‘We’ll be there for him,’ Gladiolus says, putting his large hand over Noctis’s. ‘We’ll help him get through it.’

Noctis sighs. ‘I want this so bad … and yet I know it brings so much pain. We’re all in this together.’

You mean, you’re all in it together, Ignis thinks, then chides himself immediately. His petty feelings are coming to the surface to closer they draw to the bonding ceremony, and he is ashamed. This is a happy occasion, and his time will come.

‘Stay with us tonight.’ Gladiolus gets up and walks around, pressing his wide chest against Ignis’s back. He feels the comforting weight pressed against him, and that masculine, earthy scent drift to his nose. ‘Once the bonding is over, I promise I’ll fuck you into the mattress and take you for everything you have.’

Ignis groans quietly. A flash of a memory of three nights ago, when Gladiolus had climbed on top of him, and thrust that heavy cock into him before clamping his teeth down on his neck. He had orgasmed at the same moment those teeth broke his skin. 

Noctis looks up, grins. ‘You calling dibs, Gladio? That’s fine, I think I’ve got plans for Iggy’s beautiful mouth. I want you choking on me, Iggy.’ Noctis’s blue eyes darkened with desire, and Ignis felt pinned to his seat under those gazes.

‘Tonight is about Prompto,’ Ignis reminds them, starch in his voice as he orders his own erection to calm the fuck down. ‘We will have plenty of time to play the next day once the ceremony is done. I doubt you’ll be able to get off the bed once it is done.’

‘I cannot wait for your bonding,’ Noctis continues. ‘Astrals above, I cannot wait for these half soul bonds to be completed.’

‘Next week,’ Ignis says, his mouth dry from the lust and need inside his own body even as he feels Gladio’s arms tightening over him possessively. He feels Gladio’s hot mouth against his neck, right over his jugular vein. Gladio would be able to feel the pounding of his pulse even as his tongue laved against that sensitive spot. ‘Just a little bit, Gladio.’ Ignis gives him permission because he can smell Gladio’s arousal in the air. He won’t be able to take Ignis now, so a little blood will calm his lust.

When those sharp incisors break his skin, he feels that familiar sting. As Gladiolus sucks carefully at the small wound, Ignis feels a sense of wellbeing and sweet lust surge through his veins. And then it is over, and Gladiolus licks the wound to close it over.

‘Just a small taste,’ Gladiolus says. Ignis rubs the wound gently. The bloodlust inside his belly is flaring, and tonight he hopes to feast on all three of his mates. Across the table, still seated lazily in his chair, Noctis is playing with the pen in his hand, a sly smile on his face. His eyes are half-lidded, desire churning in his eyes.

Ignis gently pushes Gladiolus off him, and stands up, dusting lint off his suit. ‘Gentlemen,’ he says politely, in the starchiest voice he can muster, so they can’t tell that he’s ridiculously turned on. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of hours.’ He hurries out, even as he hears Gladio and Noctis chuckling quietly behind him as he exits.

He returns to his own office, where it catches him by surprise to see Prompto sitting in his office chair. Ignis leans over and presses an absent kiss into Prompto’s hair. ‘What brings you down to my corner of the Citadel, my love?’

There is a new aura that surrounds Prompto, a blanket of glory that accentuates his already bright radiance. There is peace in his heart now that he knows, Ignis feels. He notices that Prompto is fidgeting a little, his fingers toying with the various pens that Ignis keeps on his desk.

‘Just wanted to check on you and how you’re doing.’ Prompto looks worried, which is quite unlike him. Ignis chuckles a little, not necessarily of mirth but irony. Why is everyone so worried about him and what he thinks? Yes, it’s not exactly nice feeling like you’re the outsider. But don’t they know that he can rise above his own petty feelings of jealousy and insecurities?

‘I’m fine, my love,’ Ignis says, trying to inject as much reassurance as he can into his tone. He slides a hand down Prompto’s cheek, thumb rubbing against his pale freckles gently and adoringly. ‘Are you all right?’

It doesn’t take much prodding for Prompto to tell the truth. He has always been happy to confide in Ignis, and they have been confidantes as long as Ignis can remember. There is a special connection there and Ignis have always felt the overwhelming need to protect him, and he wonder if that is his internal alpha recognizing that this was an omega in front of him.

‘I’m terrified about tonight, Iggy,’ Prompto leans into Ignis’s glove. ‘I’m scared of the pain. I don’t know if I can take it.’

Ignis closes his hand over Prompto’s. ‘You will, because you can. Prompto, the pain that comes with a soul bond is inevitable. It’s there, and it’s not like you can avoid it. But my love, you’re brave and you’re strong. It will be terrible I’m sure, but you’ll get through it. Noctis and Gladio have already done it once, but they want to do it with you again. I’m sure it’s not that bad.’

Prompto sighs, and hooks his arms around Ignis’s waist. ‘It’s just been so crazy, you know. I feel like my head going to …’ Prompto mimed a series of actions, culminating with his head going off in an explosion. ‘It’s so much to wrap my head around. On one hand, this is all I’ve wanted since we came into this life. On the other hand, now that it’s here, it’s like … bonding tonight, heat in three days, and before we know it, I’ll probably be knocked up. And it’s terrifying. I’m not just talking about completing the soul bond. You know how Noctis and Gladio can get when they’re riled up. Ad that was before they found out I was an omega. What if it’s crazy tonight? I mean, I’ve never even been knotted before. What if it hurts? I mean, what if I get knocked up immediately with Noct’s kid? What if we get stuck forever? I mean, have you thought about Gladio’s knot?? He’s huge, and we both know this. But what if his knot is absolutely humongous-’

Ignis claps his hands against Prompto’s cheeks, hard enough to stop him but not enough to hurt. ‘Breathe with me, Prompto,’ he ordered sternly. Prompto responds at once, and his violet eyes blinks clear. ‘One, I know it all seems overwhelming, but it will all work out fine. Second, if it hurts, then so be it. You are a vampire, you can take some pain. It will not last forever, and dwelling on it early won’t make it hurt any less. Three, of course you can take all of our knots, not matter how large Gladio’s will be. You are an omega, you are built to take this. Four, if you don’t feel ready to bear children, talk to Noctis. I am sure he would be more than happy to wait a little while until you feel ready. Trust your body, and trust yourself. And most importantly, I will be with you tonight, through all of it.’ But he wants to give Prompto the choice. His first and foremost priority is for Prompto to feel safe. ‘If you will have me there, of course.’

Prompto leans his head against Ignis’s chest. ‘I love you, Iggy. I really do. Thanks for knocking some sense into me.’

‘I would suggest you either have a rest or a hunt.’ Ignis knows that it will calm him down. ‘If you don’t feel like hunting, then go down to the 5th floor.’ The fifth floor of the Citadel houses their dedicated blood bank, filled with synthetic blood. It’s nowhere near as satisfying as real blood, but it will satiate hunger and soothe away the worst of his anxieties.

Prompto noses upwards from Ignis’s chest, along the line of his shoulder and up to his neck, where he latched on the spot that Gladio had bitten not twenty minutes ago. ‘I can smell him here, Iggy,’ Prompto whispers, and flutters his eyelashes so flirtatiously at Ignis that he had to chuckle quietly.

‘Go on. Just a small drink, please,’ Ignis says. Prompto licks playfully at the previous wound made by Gladio, and then sinks his fangs into his skin. Prompto lacks the finesse held by Gladio, who has lived his entire life as a vampire, but he is no less enthusiastic.

Ignis has always been permissive with Prompto, and he allows Prompto to take a little bit more than he is comfortable with before gently pushing him off. ‘Sorry, Iggy,’ Prompto retracts his fangs, but Ignis can see the worst of the anxiety recede within him. His pale skin is rosy with Ignis’s blood but the bounce is back in his step. ‘That was better than anything from the 5th floor.’ He smiles, his tongue licking off the drops of blood on his lips.

‘You are an incorrigible brat,’ Ignis reprimands lightly.

‘I am that,’ Prompto smiles at him. ‘I want you with us tonight.’

‘I can’t-’

‘I know you have nothing to do with the bonding ceremony. But I want you to be with me anyway.’ Prompto’s voice is gentle, and he has a feeling that Prompto knows about Ignis’s hang ups. He has tried his best not to show it, but Prompto is more perceptive than he looks.

‘You’ll be too tired to take more after Noctis and Gladiolus have had their fill,’ Ignis says in a practical tone. ‘The bonding will take the rest of your strength. It would not be wise-’

Prompto lifts his head. ‘I just want you there, Ignis. Close by, with me. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.’

Ignis understands his fears. And even though he only has a half-complete bond to his lovers, it is still strong enough that they derive great comfort from each other’s presence. He will do all he can to assist his beloved – he will assuage all his fears, he will provide loving support from whatever position he finds himself in.

‘I will be there, Prompto. And I will speak to Noctis and Gladiolus about … being gentle tonight.’

‘You don’t have to, Iggy.’

‘It will help,’ Ignis says, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. ‘Get going, my love. I have work to do, and then … some lovers to persuade.’

‘I love you, Ignis.’ Prompto presses a kiss to Ignis’s cheek. ‘Thank you. I’ll see you tonight. And see that they don’t wear you out.’

Ignis sighs. No matter how lovely they are, Prompto’s hopes are futile. Noctis and Gladiolus are alpha, pureblood vampires, and time together in bed is often marked by roughness and aggression. The least Ignis could try to do is slow them down, but he will not be able to stop it completely.

He makes quick work of his tasks at hand, then heads over to Noctis’s office, where he knows he will find the both of them. Ignis makes Noctis’s schedule, and he knows that he is just revising some of the tasks for the next day.

He does not bother to knock at the door. He simply walks in and Noctis looks up from his cavernous desk, the backdrop of the dark Insomnian skyline at his narrow back. Gladiolus turns at the sound of his entry. ‘Iggy,’ he says, his broad face lighting up in unexpected pleasure. ‘Didn’t expect to see you again this quickly.’

Ignis locks the door behind him and efficiently strips off his jacket, laying it neatly over the back of the couch. ‘I don’t have much time, so make it quick.’ He unbuttons his starched grey shirt and folds it neatly before draping it so it will not have indecorous creases. By the time he unbuckles his pants, his pack mates have already started forward, reaching for him.


	3. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the warnings and rating, please. We go from zero to smut in all of two seconds.

It’s almost like being mauled by a bunch of feral animals. But Ignis recognizes that they have been holding back since Prompto manifested, and the biological call inside their bodies is both impatient and demanding. Ignis is a poor alternative considering that they now have a manifested omega, but he will do nonetheless.

He goes down to the ground, felled like a heavy bag of rocks. Noctis has moved so quickly to him that Ignis has to wonder if he warped across the room. Noctis has his lips pressed against Ignis’s, his hands assisting Ignis in removing his pants. But Noctis is too impatient, underestimates his own strength, tearing his pants away from his thighs. Before Ignis could chide him, Noctis’s fingers yanks down his briefs, and curls them around Ignis’s cock. His mouth is already clamped on Ignis’s neck, and before he can even say, ‘Be careful’, Noctis is already drinking deeply.

Behind him, Gladiolus’s calloused fingers are sliding into him. He is not an omega, and does not have their natural slick, but as a vampire he has a high tolerance of pain. Pain is nothing to him, but that thought bears little comfort as he feels Gladio push himself in.

Ignis cries out, pain and pleasure now warring against each other even if he feels the surge of desire that pulls at him deep down in his belly. With Noctis above him and Gladio behind him, he lays trapped between them. He spreads his thighs so Gladio can thrust deeper into him, and Noctis surfaces from drinking his blood to swallow Ignis’s moan.

Even as Noctis lets go of him, Gladiolus bites swiftly at the other side of his neck. Ignis cannot help but cry out again. Gladiolus is rough and unyielding with a mouth clamped on his neck and his cock inside of Ignis. Noctis slithers down his body, and takes Ignis into his mouth.

Being fucked in every direction is enough for Ignis to lose his mind. The loss of blood from all the combined feeding sessions from his lovers has left him a little light-headed and floaty, but it is a small price to pay if they can treat Prompto with a modicum of gentleness later. It is easy for the pleasure to travel through his entire body, and soon he is coming with a vengeance, erupting into Noctis’s mouth.

Gladio thrusts roughly into him, bouncing him up and down in his lap, the rhythm becoming more brutal and erratic as he approaches his own peak, and orgasms inside of Ignis. He breathes heavily against Ignis’s shoulder, content to finally stop drinking. The sound as he pulls out is obscene and wet, but Ignis loves nothing more than the slippery wet spend that leaks out of him and down his thighs.

Noctis rears up and plants his tongue inside Ignis’s mouth, and he can taste himself. Bitter and salty, the taste is thick and arousing, it is mingled with the traces of his own blood left on Noctis’s tongue. ‘My turn,’ he murmurs.

Ignis is tired and spent, so Gladio does him a favor and turns him with a gentleness that belies his earlier roughness. He hauls him over his massive chest, while Ignis plants his knees on either side of his waist. Behind him, Noctis grips him by his hips, and tugs him upwards. Ignis uses Gladio as leverage and holds on even as Gladiolus decorates his chest and shoulders with bruising bite marks.

‘I like your hair like this, Iggy,’ Gladiolus says playfully. His hair is down and tousled from when Gladiolus gripped him and yanked back as he fucked into his ass.

‘What, all unkempt and messy?’ Ignis retorts, the primness in his voice dissipating into a gasp even as Noctis enters him from behind. Noctis may not be as big as Gladiolus, but there is something to be said when Noctis is in a mood.

The force of his thrusts are quick and brutal, and Ignis is almost thankful that Gladiolus went first. He has loosened up Iggy enough and left enough inside of him for it to function as a lubricant. Ignis can sense his deep hunger through the half-bond, and knows that everything inside of Noctis is heeding the siren’s call for the bonding tonight. He will lose some control, but Ignis is hoping that in satiating some of his desire and bloodlust, he can retain most of his reason. The first coupling after a manifestation is always especially intense, and Prompto is already worried enough.

Despite Gladio holding him, he feels like he will fall apart. His knees are being pounded mercilessly into the thick carpet, and even Gladio’s body underneath his cannot cushion the impact completely. Noctis thrusts in so hard that he cannot hold himself up anymore, and collapses onto Gladio’s sweaty chest.

‘Stay with me, Iggy,’ Gladio whispers with such affection that Ignis seeks out the warmth of his mouth. He can still feel every fevered thrust from behind. Even as Noctis is about come, he viciously bites down on Ignis’s neck, and he almost screams out from the pain.

Then as the numbing venom seeps into his broken skin, he feels a sense of wellbeing flowing through him. His body is thoroughly wrecked and he feels his energy being depleted rapidly. He has given too much blood away, and the draining lethargy that follows has him closing his eyes.

Inside of him, Noctis orgasms, painting his insides with his come. Noctis collapses onto his back, holding onto him. ‘Love you, Iggy,’ he says, love and affection in his voice.

With a groan, Ignis waits until Nocts finally moves off him. He gets up rather gingerly. The short downtime is enough for him to feel a little like himself again, but he allows Gladio to help him get dressed. His pants are ripped a little, but his form-fitting jacket will help him hide it well enough.

‘Be gentle with Prompto tonight. As much as you can, anyway,’ Ignis reminds them. Then he blinks, and sways for a second. He can feel the both of them gripping him by his arms on either side.

‘I didn’t think we took so much from you,’ Noctis notes. His pallor is probably paler than usual with all the blood loss, but after this Ignis will most likely head down to the blood bank to get a top up.

Ignis shook his head. ‘I’ll be fine.’ They hadn’t, but then Gladio had taken a little drink from him earlier, and Prompto has had an even bigger one.

Gladiolus’s grip around his arm is so tight he forces Ignis to turn to him. ‘The hell you are,’ he growls. ‘Come on, Iggy. Take it from me now,’ he says, and bares his neck.

Ignis is tempted for a moment. ‘No. You’ll need all your energy for Prompto later. I’ve already worn you both out enough. There’s no need for me to take your blood.’

‘Ignis,’ Noctis says, and lifts his own wrist to Ignis’s mouth. ‘Drink.’ His tone was firm and commanding, and Ignis had no choice but to obey. His incisors tear through the thin skin on Noctis’s wrist, and the moment the lifeblood hits his tongue, his entire body relaxes.

The taste of Noctis’s blood is thick and rich, and he permits himself two little drinks before he licks his tongue over the entry wound, sealing it shut. The rich honey of blood slides gloriously down his throat, and he can feel the power, the magic in the blood. It is tinged with the reminder of Noctis’s own alpha scent, a strong, woodsy fragrance that contrasts and complements Gladio’s earthy one.

‘You can feed on me after I’m done with Prompto tonight,’ Gladiolus promises, using his large hand to neaten up Ignis’s hair. It is a lost cause by now, but Ignis is too polite to tell him.

It is just after three by the time he gets back to his own room in the apartment they all share. His body feels sluggish and heavy, and he really should have gotten to the blood bank, he thinks to himself with some regret. The fatigue is compounded by the fact that dawn is hours away. It’s nothing a proper hunt or a good rest wouldn’t fix, but right now time is a luxury he cannot access. Today has been especially quiet on the work from because of Prompto’s conferment, so he has taken the opportunity to catch up his work.

‘Iggy?’ Prompto’s voice is plaintive in the silence of the apartment.

‘I’m coming,’ he calls out, and sheds his jacket, hanging it up neatly in the closet. He changes out of his torn pants. ‘Do you want a drink?’

‘No,’ Prompto says, but his voice is so tremulous that Ignis immediately walks up to him and kneels next to him on the bed. ‘I can feel it, Iggy. It’s such a weird feeling.’

Ignis understands immediately. Prompto’s bedroom is filled with the thick scent of flowers, and it smells like a bloody florist’s in here. He eyes Prompto, who is in his comfortable home getup of t-shirt and pale grey jeans. The front of his jeans is damp and dark, and at first Ignis thinks that Prompto has wet himself, but knowledge kicks in abruptly after that. ‘This is normal, Prompto. You’re excited about tonight, it’s probably why your body is producing copious slick.’

‘This is downright weird!’ Prompto gestures to himself, and the situation in front of his pants. ‘I feel like I’ve pissed myself, Iggy. It’s freaking humiliating, that’s what it is.’

‘Your body is just getting used to all this,’ Ignis answers in a calm voice. ‘Give it a chance. It won’t always be this bad. There is a learning curve here too, you know. We’ll take it one thing at a time.’ He puts his hands on Prompto’s hips. ‘It must be uncomfortable, so let’s get you out of that. Noctis and Gladiolus should be on the way.’

He helps Prompto pull down his damp jeans, and even wetter underwear, now heavily stained and sticky with slick. Prompto is half-fascinated, half-disgusted at this mystery fluid coming out of him, and nervously makes jokes about never needing lube ever again. Ignis gets a clean towel and presses it up to him, and then he hears the front door open.

His arms still around Ignis, Prompto stiffens visibly. ‘No need to be nervous,’ Ignis reminds him. Prompto is like a virginal bride on his wedding night. His cheeks are flushed and his nipples are stiff through the thin shirt he is wearing. He wants this, but he is also nervous. ‘You’ll be fine.’

Noctis walks into the Prompto’s bedroom, nose in the air. His blue eyes are more electric than usual, pupils blown and dilated. ‘Fuck, Prom, you smell amazing,’ he says, and there is a jitter in his voice that shows that he is barely holding onto his control.

‘Noctis,’ Prompto’s voice is drenched with relief at seeing the man he loves. Ignis is sure that even though Prompto loves them all equally, Noctis was the first one that he had loved, and for that alone there is always a special spot for him in his heart. It overwhelms Ignis with joy to think that Prompto will be able to carry Noctis’s children.

Noctis presses a perfunctory kiss to Ignis’s cheek, and reaches for Prompto, who eagerly jumps into his arms. Ignis steps back gracefully, understanding that the Noctis and Prompto show has begun. When they are together, sometimes they forget about everyone else around them. It is just what they do, and Ignis has seen enough to know they are now lost in each other.

Noctis folds Prompto gently onto the bed, helping him pull off his shirt. ‘How do you want to do this, Prom?’ His voice is full of affection for his best friend.

‘I want the both of you,’ Prompto whispers against his lips. ‘I want you to fuck me to pieces and then do it.’

‘That’s pretty smart,’ Noctis says, kissing him. His hands start to rove down Prompto’s naked body as Prompto’s hands begin frantically pulling his clothes off him. Noctis still has his suit on, and Ignis sighs quietly as he picks up the carelessly thrown clothes from the floor and drapes them on the sofa.

Noctis presses his face against the spot between Prompto’s thighs, and Ignis hears the sloppy sounds of slurping. The source of that flowery scent is increasing in the room now that Prompto is stripped to the skin.

Ignis hears the telltale footsteps of Gladiolus as he walks closer to the bedroom. When he opens the door, the gaze in his eyes is very like Noctis’s as he walks in – he looks like he is on a hunt, his posture predatory. Ignis can only hope that his efforts to take the edge off Noctis and Gladio’s natural alpha aggression is enough, and they will be gentle with Prompto tonight.

Vampire sex is aggressive, rough at the best of times, brutal at the worst. It is more savage because their nature are of a beast’s rather than a man’s. Physically they are stronger and more resilient, and pain is nothing but a sensation that escalates with a higher pleasure they constantly chase. They cannot wound each other too badly, and it is almost never permanent because of their advanced healing powers by the royal blood flowing inside of them.

Gladiolus gives Ignis a cursory hug, then presses something into his hand. Ignis looks down. Encased in a cool plastic foil is a packet of synthetic blood acquired from the blood bank. He warms with the affection at Gladio’s actions, even as the man begins to strip down. ‘Get started on that, Iggy,’ he says in a loving voice. ‘I’ve left two more on the kitchen counter if you need more. You’re looking pale.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Ignis says, and retreats to the nearby couch. He tears off a corner of the packet and pushes the opening into his mouth, and let the blood wash over his tongue and down his throat. The taste is vague and inoffensive, nothing like the warm tastiness of human blood or the velvety lusciousness of his half-mates, but it is enough to sate his hunger and bring his energy levels up.

Gladiolus pulls a blanket off the bed and drapes it across Ignis’s shoulders. He’s not cold, vampires can barely feel the temperatures anymore, but it is a loving gesture nonetheless. ‘You all right there, Iggy?’

‘I’m fine,’ Ignis says. ‘Go on, go join them.’

Gladiolus looks over at Noctis, who is now enthusiastically slurping up the slick that Prompto is producing, and Prompto is greatly enjoying it, judging by the noises he is making. ‘Yeah, looks like they’ve got everything under control.’ He bends down to kiss Ignis, long and hard and slow. ‘I cannot wait for your conferment and bonding, Iggy.’

‘You just want me to pound you into the bed, Gladio,’ Ignis says so slyly that Gladio can only laugh. ‘Go on, go take care of Prompto. He’s nervous about tonight.’

‘Not from the angle I’m looking at,’ Gladio quips. Prompto is very vocal about the attention that Noctis is lavishing on him. Prompto has always been a screamer, to the delight of his lovers. He walks up and the mattress dips as he positions one knee near Prompto’s head. Noctis’s fingers are now inside of Prompto, stretching him out. Prompto intends for the bonding to take place simultaneously, so he will need to be stretched out well.

Gladiolus gets behind Prompto, hoisting up by the armpits and positions him against his chest, never once interrupting Noctis’s thrusting fingers as they move in and out of the slick mess. When Prompto feels he is ready, Gladiolus eases in, and Prompto moans so obscenely that Ignis finds himself now nursing a half-erection. He is usually an active participant in these proceedings, voyeurism doing nothing for him. But for today, it will do. He strokes himself lazily through his pants, and watches as Noctis grips Prompto’s hips and pushes his way in.

Prompto screams in pain-pleasure, his arms draped over Noctis’s neck in a stranglehold. He takes shallow, panting breaths as the muscles stretch to accommodate the two thick girths currently inside of him. Gladiolus holds fast to Prompto’s waist, and then Noctis begins to move.

Soon the three of them are grunting and moaning, with Prompto too delirious to even scream. He manages to choke out that his orgasm is coming, and Ignis watches as Gladiolus tears clumsily at his own wrist before pressing the bloody mess to Prompto’s mouth.

The rich tang of blood fills the air, and Ignis twitches. He can feel a primeval hunger arise in him, and he swallows it down easily, having practiced that rather frequently. He is not one to usually give in to his own temptations especially when it isn’t convenient, and Ignis Scientia is all about efficiency.

Prompto sucks hard at Gladiolus’s wrist, and in front of him, panting and frenetic, Noctis does the same to his wrist. Prompto lets go long enough for Noctis and Gladiolus to rub their wrists together, so that their blood mingled together over the messy open wounds. Noctis pushes his wrist against Prompto’s wrist, while Gladiolus thrusts deeply from behind.

Prompto’s scream is muffled against Noctis’s skin, and he splashes thick ropes of white come all over his and Noctis’s chest. Noctis is not far behind, and orgasms right after. He and Prompto collapse each other, and subsequently Gladiolus, but the large man is undeterred. He merely pushes them forward into the mattress while still connected to Prompto, and he thrusts forcefully, rocking the two smaller men underneath him. He fucks hard, taking his pleasure until he crests. And as he is breathing deeply, he and Noctis share a knowing gaze between them.

Then while Prompto is still sucking away on Noctis’s wrist, Gladiolus swiftly bends his mouth down against Prompto’s neck and bites down, while Noctis does the same on the other side. Prompto moans in pleasure, then the blood on their mouths, on their wrists, splashed messily on their bodies, begin to glow. The luminosity only lasts for a few seconds, and then it dulls as the bond snaps into place.

And the pain begins. Prompto breaks from drinking, throwing his head back so hard that it thuds loudly against Gladiolus’s hard chest. Noctis, who is pinned under the weight of two men, had no room to flail. He merely closes his eyes, but the pain is etched into the heavily furrowed brow as he bites his lip. Prompto’s scream is an unearthly wail of pain, while Gladiolus buries his entire face into Prompto’s neck. The three of them looked like they are stuck together in a bizarre contortion of excruciating pain. Ignis gets up and goes to them, but the sense of helplessness is overwhelming. This is not his battle. He kneels by the bed, taking Prompto’s stiffened hands into his. His fingers are curled against the invisible pain, but it looks like the moment is slowly passing. Gladiolus, whose pain threshold was always the highest out of all of them, comes back to himself first.

He eases his heavy body out of Prompto, then gently pulls the trembling Prompto into his arms. Ignis curls himself over Noctis, who opens his arms to embrace Ignis.’I’m all right,’ Noctis whispers, his voice exhausted. ‘It’s gone. It doesn’t hurt anymore.’

Prompto weeps quietly against Gladiolus’s broad chest.

‘It’s done, you’re all right,’ Gladiolus whispers over and over again. ‘It’s done now.’

Prompto’s sobs lessens into sniffles. ‘Fuck, that hurt more than I thought it would.’

‘It’s done now. Can you feel it?’ Noctis says. ‘The bond. It’s snapped into place.’

‘Yes,’ Prompto says, absently massaging his chest, as if it is the source of pain. ‘I can feel it. Deep inside of me. It’s … amazing,’ he breathes out in wonderment, and Ignis has to pull himself back from the envy. His time will come too. Even though his wait is the longest, once the bonding is complete, he will have these three loved ones bonded to him. There will be no downtime, no endless wait for anyone to manifest. He is the last of the four, and he is needed to complete the bond between the four of them. It is a burden as well as a privilege.

Ignis steps away to get a couple of warm wet cloths. He does his best to clean Prompto up, with the mess between the three of them making it more complicated than necessary. There is blood everywhere, warm scented slick and dried come, so he does his best. He knows that the omega will need his alphas close for tonight, so he orders Gladiolus to carry Prompto to Noctis’s bedroom, and then he pokes and prods at the half-asleep Noctis until he gets up and goes to his own bedroom.

He tucks them into bed, ensuring that the blankets are tucked securely over their beautiful, bare skins, then shuts the lights. They are all exhausted. Ignis is too, but there is still work to be done. He steps back into Prompto’s room, pulls off the stained sheets and puts a new sheet on, tidies up the room. He drinks another blood pack and watches as the sun rise behind the windows.

The sun rise is as beautiful as ever. While it is a myth that they will burn under the light of the sun, their vampire bodies tend to avoid daylight because it drains them of their energy. For this reason alone they sleep in the day and prowl at night. There have been so many dawns that he has stayed up for, and he still does not take its unique beauty for granted.

Tired now, he cleans up his own mess and strips down his skin. For a moment he is tempted to join his lovers in Noctis’s enormous bed, but he feels that tonight is a night for them. There will be plenty of time to be together. He turns off the lights, draws the blinds. Places his glasses on the bedside table, and slides underneath the cool sheets.

Just a little more, he tells himself. Five days until his own manifestation. And then he will be complete.


	4. Manifestation

The next days pass by in a blur because all Ignis can feel is exhaustion. After the intense bonding session, the three of them stick close to each other. The alphas feel an intense need to protect the new omega member of their pack, and the omega likes his alphas to stay close. With the three of them in such close proximity to each other, and the triggering of Prompto’s newly awakened and unstable hormones, his heat will probably arrive sooner rather than later.

This results in Noctis and Gladiolus staying in the apartment with Prompto, the three of them fucking and feeding on each other until they were well and truly exhausted. Noctis’s work and schedule falls to Ignis, and that keeps him busy in his office. In a way this is useful, because Prompto’s manifestation is providing a blueprint as to what he will need to do when he manifests in five days. He too will find it difficult to leave the apartment and his new omega and alpha partners, so it is best to carry out as much work as he is able to before then.

For him that means what feels like an endless wave of back-to-back meetings, some where he is the one who issues instructions like machine-gun fire, and the others where he takes copious notes until his hand cramps from overuse. There are stacks upon stack of documents to peruse and redirect to relevant parties. His early evening risings are filled with tackling Gladiolus’s usual tasks in overseeing Crownsguard recruits as they do their training. Ignis takes on all these tasks and more.

When Prompto’s first heat arrives, he goes to various rooms in the apartment raiding for blankets and pillows until he has built himself a comfortable nest in his own bed. With permission, Ignis manages to get him some contraception for the first couple of heats. Prompto may be prepared to have Noctis’s children, but he is not ready yet. He can take his time, because after all, all they have is time.

The alphas stay close, and Ignis finds himself returning around midnight to prepare food for all of them. Vampires do not need human food, but they do find comfort in it and can derive strength from nutritious meals. Ignis intends to see that his half-mates are well-fed and comfortable. He picks up a handful of synthetic blood packs and keeps it close by in Prompto’s room.

On the night of Prompto’s bonding, the scent emanating from him and his slick is strong, but when his heat hits, the scent becomes almost overwhelming. The sweet floral fragrance now smells more like it had been soaked in honey and left overnight in the air vents. The alphas in the apartment are losing their minds, with the scent teasing and titillating their senses. He notes that Prompto’s scent doesn’t bother him much, but that is probably because he hasn’t properly manifested yet.

But when Prompto starts keening from need, whatever that is left of their reasoning pretty much flees their brain. Ignis reminds himself that when Prompto’s heat happens next, he should probably prepare ahead and freeze some meals so they can just reheat the food or grab a blood pack. None of them are in any shape to hunt, but Noctis and Gladiolus are pureblood vampires, and Ignis and Prompto are their progeny. Human blood sustains them, but with the advent of synthetic blood, they can go months without participating in an actual hunt.

So even though Ignis wants to join them, he is too busy and too tired to do so. Once or twice during Prompto’s wild, unpredictable heat, he has taken over from Noctis, who has passed out from exhaustion, and Gladiolus, who simply didn’t have any stamina left in him. They might have been vampires, but they were not immune to the vagaries of fatigue. Omega heats are not usually this bad, but this is Prompto’s first, and he cannot regulate himself as his body drives him through an unquenchable, seemingly insatiable lust. He cannot sleep for long before he wakes and demands more.

Ignis may not be able to knot him, but he can help alleviate some of the need by fucking Prompto as hard as he can. A vampire’s heat is twofold – he needs both a knot and blood, and Ignis submits to Prompto’s greedy blood-drinking as best he can. Noctis and Gladiolus both look exhausted and pale, probably because Prompto is constantly taking from them.

And as much as Ignis hates to do it, he ends up going on a hunt, and manages to drag a fresh human back to the apartment. Noctis and Gladiolus gorge themselves on the unconscious man, but are careful not to kill him. A dead body is harder to get rid of than a live one, and a little human blood goes a long way.

When they are done, Ignis drags the body back out and dumps him back into the alley where he found him the first time. The man will wake up with a terrible headache and will be fatigued for days, but he has served them well.

He makes the arrangements for his own conferment ceremony that is to be held in two days. It is simple because he was the one who planned Prompto’s, so he is merely repeating the plans he has made a week earlier. He feels a strangeness crawling under his skin, and he wonders if it is the manifestation starting, or if his own anxiety coming into play. He often feels warm and his core feels like it is heating up.

By now, Prompto is over the worst of his heat and is doing a lot more sleeping than fucking. Gladiolus stays with him and cares for him, and Noctis is comfortable enough to leave the apartment for a few hours at a time. He returns to his office to tackle some of the overdue paperwork that Ignis cannot do for him.

They manage to sit down together and share a meal. They retire to Ignis’s room, where Noctis rolls around indolently on his bed. Ignis takes off his clothes and hangs them up neatly. ‘Hey, Iggy,’ Noctis calls out.

Iggy lifts an eyebrow. ‘Yes, Noct.’

‘You’re beautiful, you know that?’ Noctis says so casually that it takes Ignis a while to reconcile that tone with his heartfelt words. ‘I love you so much, Iggy.’

Ignis looks at Noctis. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ Noctis says, startled. ‘What, I can’t say that I love you without bad intentions? Listen, I know the last few days we’ve been … distracted with Prompto. I never want you to feel left out, Ignis. Just because Prompto’s taken up our time doesn’t mean you mean any less to us.’

‘I know that, Noct,’ Ignis says. ‘But thank you for affirming it.’ He climbs onto the bed as Noctis pulls him close and presses light kisses along his skin. Ignis can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness, and he wonders if this is what they all feel as their manifestation draws close. ‘I’m feeling … strange. I hope you won’t mind if I just want to sleep tonight.’

Noctis strokes his cheek. ‘Of course, Iggy. I’m here for you.’ Ignis shuts the lights, and curls onto his side. Noctis spoons him from behind, and Ignis nudges his bare ass against Noctis, a familiar enough signal that Noctis knows exactly what he wants. He may not want to do anything beyond sleep, but he wants to be connected.

Noctis pushes into him, his hard cock thrusting into his warmth roughly. He is unlubricated, but he enjoys that friction. The sting makes him feel alive in that his vampiric body that no longer can feel sensations like a human body can. The taste of food is duller, and pain is nothing. Even the bloodlust is dimmed by the nourishing blood that flows inside of him, and except for fatigue there’s really nothing else. His preternatural body is resilient and powerful, and somehow that makes him feel a little less human.

But with Noctis inside of him, and whatever that resembles body warmth emanating from his cool body behind him, it is easier to count his blessings. So as the sun rises, Ignis closes his eyes.

Vampires do not dream, but in their slumber they rest until late afternoon of the next day. He rises early the next day, mindful that he had too much to do and too little time. His conferment ceremony should be simple and uncomplicated. After all, there’s no need to celebrate when he manifests as an alpha, not when the clan is already populated with alphas. Once the bonding is over, he expects to come straight back to work and fall back into his regular routine.

He eases out of Noctis’s death grip and winces a little as Noctis’s cock slips out of his sore hole. He showers and gets dressed. When he walks out into the kitchen, Prompto is there, his hair wet and clean, and he presents a plate of eggs, ham and toast to Ignis. Next to that offering, he places a mug of freshly brewed coffee.

It brings a smile to Ignis’s face. Prompto is the most proficient one out of all of them when it comes to operating the coffee machine. He makes a mean brew, and for someone like Ignis who still clings on to his coffee addiction that he had when he was still human, it is a both a blessing and a godsend. Prompto is his favorite enabler, and Prompto knows it.

‘Good morning, Iggy!’ Prompto says, despite ten straight years of sleeping through mornings and the day. It is rather inaccurate, but he likes hearing it. Prompto is literally the sunshine of their lives now that they no longer live during the day. That irrepressible cheer never fails to put him in a good mood.

‘Not that I’m not grateful for this lovely looking spread. But what’s the occasion? How are you feeling after your heat?’

‘I’m sore as fuck,’ Prompto says happily. ‘But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. And anyways, I just wanted to tell you …’ He sighs, scratches his cheek awkwardly. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for us, Iggy. You’ve always been there for me. And now … I want to be there for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Ignis says. ‘But I will be fine.’

‘I know alphas don’t require care like omegas do, but I just want to help you in any way I can. I love you, Iggy. And I’m so excited for your manifestation tomorrow night. I am looking forward to the bonding, but …’ Prompto’s youthful face is marred by concern.

‘The pain.’

‘It was so bad, Iggy. But now that it’s over, it doesn’t seem as bad as it seems? And for some reason, I feel like I can do it again?’

‘You only have to do it one more time, Prompto,’ Ignis reminds him. 

‘That’s right,’ Prompto smiles. He walks around the counter, and encircles his arms around Ignis’s waist, nuzzles into him. ‘You smell so good, Iggy.’

‘I do? What do I smell like?’ Ignis wonders if his new scent is coming through along with his manifestation.

‘Like … a cake.’

‘What?’ Ignis laughs into his coffee cup. ‘I smell like cake?’

‘Yeah … like, nice and delicious like a cake.’ Prompto sniffs him, and then Ignis sees his pupils have dilated. In the past, Gladiolus has accused Ignis of spoiling Prompto. With a little sigh, he concedes that Gladiolus might have a point. ‘Just a little drink,’ he reminds Prompto, relenting. ‘And don’t get any on my clothes.’

He is wearing a white shirt underneath his black suit, and if Prompto isn’t careful he will get blood on his collar. Ignis doesn’t want to have to change, now when he has such a busy day ahead of him. Prompto bounces up and slides his skinny ass onto the counter. Ignis turns his head and bares his neck, and feels the sharp sting as Prompto bites into him.

A vampire’s bite releases a toxin that numbs the pain, and triggers a wave of lust. Out of all of them, Ignis is easily the one who has the most self-control, and is the least likely to want to have an intense fucking sessions following a feeding. He can feel Prompto’s erection jutting against his hip, but reminds himself there is a lot of work waiting for him.

When Prompto is done, he licks the wound closed. ‘As promised, no mess,’ Prompto says, smiling. Ignis can’t help but kiss him.

He heads off to work and plants his ass behind his desk, his hand already reaching out for the first thing on the stack of folders. And it is close to dawn by the time he finishes. He heads back to the apartment, where he finds his three lovers waiting up for him, sitting around the dining table in various states of stupor and sleepiness.

Ignis walks up to Gladiolus and kisses him, tasting the sweet-bitterness of alcohol on his tongue, and accepts the affectionate nuzzle from Prompto. Noctis gestures him over, and when Ignis complies, he pulls him onto his lap. ‘You’re late tonight, Iggy.’

‘Why are you waiting up?’

‘Well, we were wondering what your sleeping arrangements are tonight,’ Noctis asks diplomatically. This is always a little tricky and requires some finesse. The night before Prompto’s manifestation, he had chosen Gladiolus as his bedtime companion. He had a lot of nervous energy that needed to be expended, and he had judged Gladiolus as the best candidate to help him relieve that stress. Noctis had invited himself to Ignis’s room then, and then had proceeded to pound the living shit out of Ignis in bed. There had been a lot more at stake then. But now since their omega had manifested, the level of anxiety is considerably lower.

But he recognizes that his lovers want to be there for him. And yet, Ignis is not usually one to ask for help. ‘I’m fine, my loves,’ he says patiently. ‘I’m tired, so I’ll probably go straight to bed. After all, it is a rather big day tomorrow.’ It is completely true. He is more fatigued than usual, and there is a faint thread of pain that runs underneath his skin. It’s just physical discomfort, and that is something he can deal with.

He sees the faint disappointment on their faces, and he wants to laugh. They probably were looking forward to a frenzied orgy tonight. Ignis knows that they have missed him since he was conspicuously absent for the days following the initiation of Prompto’s heat. He knows they want him close, and they want to be with him.

But there is a small, petty part of him that he thought he has suppressed but is just starting to resurface now that he is tired and wants to go to bed. He feels the emotions so acutely that he wonders why he has retained this very human side of him. He does feel left out, no matter how much his brain tells him it isn’t so.

There is more than enough time to fuck and be fucked during his bonding. He looks forward to that more than anything. Because it would mean that he could finally complete his three half-bonds, and that he can finally feel like a real person instead of a half one. ‘I’m going to bed, darlings. I’ll see you soon.’

He accepts the kisses they lavish on him, and then heads off to bed.

And if feels like he has just closed his eyes a second ago when he opens them, and the sun is just sliding slowly towards the horizon. He has woken up a little earlier than usual. There is much to do.

He run a hot bath and tosses in the fresh flowers that has been provided to him. He scrubs his skin clean and soaks in the warm water until evening has turned into night. Noctis checks on him. He stands by the doorway, leaning against it. For once, he does not have to tell Noctis to get dressed. He is perfectly groomed, and in his pinstripe suit with a black shirt underneath. His hair is neatly combed back.

‘Anything you need, Iggy, before I head out?’

‘No, but thank you. I’ll see you soon.’ The water is getting cooler, and any pain relief that came with the heated water is gradually dissipating away. Noctis walks into the bathroom, and kneels by the side of the tub. Ignis eyes him, then leans over the marble, and accepts the kiss from Noctis. The hot tongue plunders the inside of his mouth. Noctis’s hand slides into the water, and scratches his fingernails gently down his chest, and then tweak his nipple not so gently. He swallows Ignis’s aroused moan before he pulls away.

‘I’ll see you soon,’ Noctis says, and his voice is full of promise. ‘As soon as it’s over, I want to fuck my new alpha.’

Ignis smiles. ‘You can try, darling. But I might be in the mood to dominate you tonight.’

‘You can fuck all three of us if you want.’ Noctis stands up, and strokes his hair. ‘I really like your hair down, Ignis. Leave it that way for today’s conferment.’ It sounds like an order, so Ignis nods, and presses a kiss to Noctis’s hand. He will do anything for Noctis, for he is his liege and his master. And after tomorrow, he will be his soul mate.

He gets dressed in a similar white tunic that Prompto had on a week ago, although it is in a bigger size. He pushes his hair back but does not gel it up like he usually does. And even though he likes having his glasses on, he doesn’t need it. He composes himself, then heads down to the conferment room.

He accepts the good luck wishes from the vampires that he walks past, but there is no need for luck when the outcome is already set in stone. He politely greets the crowd as he walks into the room. He steps into the water, glad that it is comfortably warm.

Noctis kneels in front of him, and sends him a reassuring smile. Prompto looks at him sunnily, his slight frame dressed in a neat black suit. He rarely dresses up unless the occasion calls for it, so Ignis is pleased that Prompto has taken the time to look good. His gaze floats over to Gladiolus, who is as serious as usual. He puts his hand on Noctis’ shoulder while Prompto takes the other one. And behind them, is the king and the king’s Shield.

When Noctis is ready, he puts his hand around the blade, letting the sharp edge cut into his flesh. His blood flows freely over the steel of the blade, and the sword lights up. Ignis takes a deep breath, composes himself. His heart is beating frantically, but he know that this is just the moment before he is reborn into his biological destiny. It has been ten years of waiting since he was turned. And he has finally arrived.

He puts both hands on the hilt, and feels the magic rush through his hands and into his body. His core is aflame, and he feels heat penetrate every pore of his body. It is like being burned alive by the sun. The blue light emanating from the sword becomes brighter until it snaps into a blinding light that forces his eyes closed.

He gets ready to bend the knee.

Then finds that he cannot physically do so. It’s like his body is being held in an invisible vise, keeping him rooted to the ground. He cannot move, no matter how much he tries.

This isn’t right. There’s something wrong.

He’s an alpha. He’s meant to fall to his knees. Gladiolus had explained it to him once. He says it’s just a giant invisible hand that pushes you down to your knees, no matter how much you resist or push back, you cannot fight this supernatural force.

Ignis was not planning to fight it. He would gladly fall to his knees and accept his biological destiny. It is something he has prepared himself for the last ten years.

But he cannot move.

He blinks. He is frozen.

He hears the whispers of confusion before he looks at the men he loves. Noctis is confused as heck, and Prompto is startled. Gladiolus has an incredulous expression on his face. ‘Did it … not work?’ Noctis asks, although rather dubiously. If anything, he is the only one who can attest to whether the conferment worked, as he is the one who initiated the process.

Ignis doesn’t feel any different. There is a large possibility that the conferment ceremony has failed. But in its thousand years of history it has never failed. So why did it fail today?

The invisible hold over his body finally loosens. Ignis can feel his knees want to buckle and drop to the floor, but he still doesn’t. He looks up into Noctis’s eyes.

‘Your scent,’ Noctis says urgently, his eyes dilating nearly to black, and Ignis’s brows knit together. He does not understand.

Gladiolus walks forward. ‘What the hell?’ He moves closer to Ignis, and presses his nose against his neck. ‘I can smell you. Your scent. It’s different, Iggy.’

‘Holy shit,’ Noctis whispers. ‘Ignis, you’re an omega.’

No. It is not possible.

He’s an alpha. He’s been destined to be an alpha.

He’s manifested into a fucking _omega_?


	5. Adaptation

An entire day later, he still finds it hard to believe the strange turn of events.

And it’s not just him. Gladiolus and Prompto are shocked, but nowhere near how stunned Noctis is. He is the apex predator of the pack. Vampires either manifest into alpha or omega, and the overwhelming majority have been alphas. Omegas come once in every couple of generations, but now he has two - one that he has bonded with, and one who has committed to the pledge a bond with him.

Once Ignis is able to gather his thoughts, he fears that it is not going to be simple after all. Omegas are too rare, and he fears that he will not be allowed to remain in Noctis’s pack, no matter what they had pledged to each other, no matter how deep their love for each other. Ignis has been Noctis’s retainer and friend since he was six years old. But that might not matter when there are many alpha packs around and the future of their coven is desperately uncertain.

His mind starts to calculate the various new possibilities in his life. Applying his logic keeps his anxieties and worst fears at bay. Will he be given a choice to pick his new pack? The only ones who come to mind are one particular couple. Cor and Nyx have always been his friends, steadfast and supportive. They would not be a bad choice at all, and he knows they will be kind to him. Perhaps in time, love could develop.

He feels that thought choking him, cutting off his air supply. He has never imagined a life outside of Noctis’s pack. His loyalty is to Noctis, and him alone. He has been groomed to be Noctis’s advisor, his right hand when he finally ascends to the throne of Lucis.

He can still serve, he knows. Just because he has manifested as an omega does not mean his mental faculties are affected. Just because he is in a traditionally weaker gender role does not mean he is weaker. No. He will rise, and he will serve.

He wonders if he can do it without his lovers by his side.

The miasma of confusion and disbelief has surrounded the Citadel like a heavy fog. No one had really expected this turn of events. He knows that Regis wants to speak to him soon, but has not summoned him so far. Perhaps he is giving Ignis a little more time to process his new reality.

He tries to return to his work, but his mind will not stay with him. All he can think, and wonder, is what will happen to him next? The bonding session tonight is out of the question, because none of them are ready for it. For a moment there, Ignis is tempted to just go through with it. Completing the soul bond is as good as permanent, and if he is already bonded to Noctis’s pack then no one can order him to bond with someone else.

No matter how kind Cor is, he is not Noctis.

He has a long history with Noctis, and has worshipped every single inch of his skin for decades now. How many nights have they fed from each other, and he can no longer count the amount of times Noctis has fucked into him and whispered loving endearments into his ear. Gladiolus has been a sturdy companion to him. They have been best friends, united in their duty and love to their liege. He can tell Gladiolus things that he cannot even speak to Noctis about. Can he genuinely do the same with Cor? And darling Prompto, sweet and joyful, a speck of sunshine in the darkness that the coven is constantly surrounded in. He is the one who’s come around to the facts first, and he’s given Ignis a suffocating hug and told him that he is so glad that he’s not the only omega in the coven.

He cannot stay here in his office, pretending to be working when he can barely concentrate. Ignis rises, and right there and then, he decides to go out for a proper hunt. He removes his suit jacket and drapes it over his office chair. He is used to going out on hunts on his own. It suits his solitary nature, but now he wonders if he is allowed to. Omegas are prized, but a coven’s imperative is also to protect them. Ignis knows that law back to front because of his role as advisor. He knows that omegas cannot go out on hunts on their own.

Ignis stands there for an unnecessarily long time. He hates that he has now been reduced to this weak creature governed by his biology - so vulnerable and pathetic he needs a fucking escort with him when he has never needed one before.

He flexes his fingers, and wills his daggers to appear in his hands. They appear instantaneously. The heft and weight of them are perfectly balanced, and the grips solid in his hands. He is not weak. He straightens up, and the daggers disappear.

But even as he gets down to the entrance of the Citadel, Gladiolus is standing there, leaning casually over the lobby, flirting harmlessly with the front of house staff. But he cannot fool Ignis. His place is by Noctis’s side, and he really shouldn’t be in the lobby unless it is for a good reason.

He watches Ignis walk down to him. Gladiolus slides an arm around his waist. Is it just his imagination, or Gladiolus is being more solicitous than usual?

‘Going somewhere, Iggy?’ His tone might be casual, but his gaze is not.

Iggy looks at him, barely tamping down on his own irritation. ‘Why are you here, Gladio?’ He pushes his glasses up and juts his chin. Gladiolus is here because he knows Ignis is going out on a hunt. And he knows, because Ignis just pulled his daggers from the Armiger. It is one of the numerous ways that the four of them are connected to each other. He knows he can’t shake Gladiolus, so he only sighs. ‘Come along then.’

‘Nah,’ Gladiolus says. ‘Just gotta wait for Noct and Prompto.’

Now his eyes flickered in obvious annoyance. ‘I don’t need protection, Gladiolus.’

‘Who says we’re here to protect you? Prompto weighs about a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet holding two bricks in his hand. You know he’s a lightweight. And he wants to hunt.’

Right. He didn’t believe in Gladiolus’s horse shit for even one second. But he wanted a hunt, needed it right now. He didn’t care if Gladiolus came with him, or if Noctis and Prompto came too. One thing at a time. Feeding right now will help him think with more clarity. The hunt itself will sharpen his focus, and the blood will sate his hunger, helping to clear the mess of anxieties sitting in his stomach. Hopefully.

He is not usually fidgety, but he practically vibrates on the spot with nervous energy until Noctis and Prompto show up. Worry is etched into Noctis’s brow, but Prompto does a better job of hiding it. He is talkative as usual, attempting to fill that awkward silence with pointless chatter. Ignis doesn’t mind. Until they can sit down together and discuss the white elephant in the room, it’s always going to be awkward. He wonders if they even have a choice. If he even has a choice.

They head downtown to the red light district. Tonight he’s in the mood for a kill, even though they try not to do it often. It is hard to judge whether the human prey they land is worthy of a kill until his teeth has already sunk into their flesh.

He uses a light glamour on the bouncers standing in front of The Rave. The club is packed, which makes his hunt a lot easier. Gladiolus secures them a table and gets them drinks, and Ignis waits. He sits quietly in the booth, and stretches his powers out to scan the humans around him. He is probing for a deep darkness before assessing if they are suitable prey. He doesn’t have to wait long at all.

A tall, gorgeous buxom blond woman sat at the bar. Her surgically enhanced body has been poured into a tight, bright pink bandage dress. She sits there, quietly nursing a martini. Despite her relative youth, the greed leaks out of her as surely as the darkness. She has a simple job. She is simply there to slip tiny vials of drugs into unsuspecting club goers, before they are picked up by men already waiting by the corner table. The bartender is in on this. Their victims are then kidnapped, and that drawn into a human trafficking ring.

She already has a target picked out. Another woman at the far end of the bar, face messy and wet with snot and tears, desperately upset over the man who had broken up with her the day before. Ignis sends Noctis and Prompto a knowing glance, and they make a beeline for the men in the corner. Gladiolus stays in the shadows and watches the bartender.

Ignis sidles up to the woman. He’s not in the mood to play nice, to use a glamour over here so his hunt is easier. He orders a drink from the bartender, and puts it on the woman’s tab. She looks over him with irritation before he can smell her attraction to him. He is not vain, but he knows that vampirism has gifted his natural looks a preternatural, unearthly beauty. His skin is smooth, his green eyes luminous like emeralds, his athletic frame is encased in a tailored lilac shirt and dress pants that mold around his muscular thighs and ass.

‘Thanks for the drink,’ he says to her, and lifts his shot in thanks. 

‘I didn’t order it for you,’ she says, but her body is already turned towards him, signaling attraction. He can see and hear what she is thinking. She’s feeling horny and wants a quick fuck, and he fits the bill perfectly.

‘I know,’ he replies, then downs the shot. He turns to her now. ‘But thank you anyway.’ He knows she is ready, so he places a hand on her thigh. ‘Let me know if I can reciprocate in any way.’

‘Oh yeah?’ She lifts a brow, startled at his forwardness. She likes it.

His hand moves higher up on her thigh, close to the hem of her very short dress. She puts her hand over Ignis’s. ‘I’m heading to the washroom,’ she says.

The washroom? How classy, Ignis thinks to himself. She gets up, sashays away, her hips swaying as she makes her way to the bathrooms. Ignis waits for a minute, then gets up to follow after her.

His prey is posing no challenge to him so far, and it’s almost absurdly easy. He knocks at the only occupied door, and she opens it. She sits back on the closed lid. He assesses his surroundings, and swallows his distaste. It’s not a place he’d like to feed in, but it’s relative clean, considering.

Her legs are spread wide open, and he gets down on one knee. His fingers slip inside of her, and finds that she wears nothing underneath that ridiculous bandage of a dress. He waits until he’s gotten a rhythm and her eyes are thrown back in pleasure. He wraps a hand around her neck and brings her closer to his mouth. And as intense ecstasy floods her body as he curls his two fingers, he extends his incisors, and tears into her bitter, overly perfumed skin.

His hand moves from the back of her neck to cover her mouth as she shrieks in pain, and his fingers continue to curl inside of her. He drinks his fill, and her life flashes inside his mind. She was a victim of circumstance, poverty and desperation forcing her into this career path. But now she is a perpetrator, and part of the problem. He wants to kill her, rid the world of one more horrible human being.

But the sense of helplessness that pervades her life floods into him, and he cannot help but see parallels in his life. He has manifested as an omega, and his life may not be his own anymore. He is at the mercy of the powers that be that rule the coven. He used to be one of them, but now his path is different.

Ignis has lost all his appetite. He drinks enough for her to pass out, then cast a glamour over her. She will wake up blissed up and tired, and will only think fondly of the man who had fucked her over the toilet and then left, never to be seen again. He closes over the puncture wounds neatly. He washes his hands with soap, wishing he could wash her cheap perfume off himself as well.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and brushes away the single tendril of ash brown hair out of his eyes. He looks deceptively calm on the outside, but all he can see is the panic in his own eyes. He is terrified about what will come next. He cannot even wrap his head around it.

Ignis shakes himself out of his funk, and heads out of the club. He tugs on the weak little thread inside of him that leads him to an alleyway, where his three lovers are already waiting for him outside. He can see flushed cheeks instead of their usual pale pallor, so he knows they must have had a good feed as well. His stomach churns and all he wants to do is head home to the Citadel. His hunt is not nearly as satisfying as he thought it would be.

Noctis frowns as Ignis approaches them. ‘Jeez, Iggy. Did you really have to lay your hands on her? All I can smell is her muddying your scent.’

Gladiolus hooks a finger into his belt loop, and yanks him forward. ‘Really? All I can smell is Iggy.’

‘What do I smell like?’ Ignis asks, curious despite himself.

‘Like birthday cake!’ Prompto pipes up, dropping down onto a knee and unbuckling Ignis’s belt and pants.

‘Yeah, kind of,’ Gladiolus says. ‘More like fresh vanilla. It’s rich, it’s sweet, and it’s fragrant as fuck.’ Gladiolus bends his mouth down to Ignis’s, even as Prompto clamps his sweet little mouth over Ignis’s cock.

‘You taste delicious, Iggy,’ Prompto mumbles around his cock, and Ignis pushes his head down roughly.

‘Shut up, Prom,’ Ignis says. Behind him, Noctis has unzipped himself and uses his hand to yank down Ignis’s underwear, exposing his ass.

‘Shit,’ Noctis growls. ‘You’re completely wet down here, Iggy. Did she turn you on?’

‘Hardly,’ Ignis remarks. But the fact that his body is producing natural slick is irrefutable evidence that he is an omega. It is a knowledge that both dismays and damns him. This is his destiny.

Noctis pushes his erection into Ignis’s wet hole. ‘Fuck me,’ Noctis swears. ‘You have always been sexy as fuck, Iggy. But now it’s even better when you’re wet and hot and you’re sucking me in like this. I like you as an omega.’

‘I can’t wait to fuck you,’ Gladiolus says. ‘My Iggy. An omega.’

‘Yeah, I’m not exactly excited about it,’ he says dryly. His thoughts trail off as Noctis fucks earnestly into him. The familiar feelings of pleasure begins to crest the harder Noctis fucks him, and with Prompto eagerly blowing him from the front Ignis is afraid that he cannot last for long. It’s for the best anyway, he doesn’t want to be spending more time in this dirty alleyway for longer than necessary.

And when Gladiolus sinks his teeth into Ignis, he can’t help but brace himself against the deluge of pleasure that flushes through him. Noctis comes inside of him, and as he withdraws, Ignis can feel sticky streams of come and slick trickling down his shaky thighs. He feels Noctis penetrate his now loose hole with two fingers, coating his fingers in the fluid. Then he withdraws, and shoves them into Ignis’s mouth. He moans around it, his tongue licking Noctis’s fingers clean. He tastes the saltiness of Noctis’s spend and the sweetness of his own slick.

Prompto strokes him off even as the pressure on his neck deepens, and he comes hard into Prompto’s mouth with a helpless cry. His entire body would have sagged to the ground if not for the fact that Gladiolus is holding him up still. Noctis yanks Prompto off him, forcing him onto his feet, and they kiss sloppily, their saliva mingling with Ignis’s come.

‘Come on, let’s head home,’ Ignis says, when he finally gets his breath back.

They walk out of the alleyway only to find a surprise of the very worst sort waiting for them. Ignis has pulled his daggers out of the Armiger before he even realizes that the figures standing in the shadows are Magitek Troopers.

Here, in Insomnia? Within Crown City itself? It makes no sense.

But Noctis has already thrown his Engine Blade through a trooper, and has warped into it. The trooper falls on his back, and Noctis yanks his blade out and pivots around, swinging his sword. Prompto’s already firing away with his pistols from a safe distance, nailing the troopers with chest and head shots. Ignis assesses his surroundings and does a quick head count. Nine, or ten of them that he can see in front of him. He slides forward and slashes his daggers, making quick work of the troopers in front of him and behind him. And then Gladiolus is at his side, cleaving down with his great sword.

They don’t want to fight in a public arena, but they have no choice. The MTs are firing at them and the night air is filled with panicked screams as they run away from the scene. Ignis spins around and plunges his daggers into the chest of the closest MT, and yanks it out only to throw one straight into an MT who is aiming his gun at Noctis’s back. The dagger embeds itself in the MT’s forehead, and Ignis recalls it into the Armiger before having it appear in his hands again.

There is only a handful of them left, and they put up hardly any resistance at all. But they are stunned senseless at the appearance of MTs in their midst. Niflheim forces cannot penetrate the Wall, and yet here they are. When the last of the MTs is disposed of, Noctis lets his weapons disappear back into the Armiger. He is breathing heavily. ‘We need to head back.’

‘Agreed,’ Ignis says, and they drop into a protective formation – Gladiolus taking point, Prompto and Noctis following after, with Ignis taking up the rear. Noctis stops abruptly, and Ignis almost crashes into his back.

‘No,’ Noctis says. ‘Iggy, I’ll bring up the rear.’

Ignis’s confusion is palpable, and then he realizes Noctis’s alpha instincts has kicked in. That triggers Ignis’s irritation almost immediately. He’s nobody’s omega, let alone Noctis’s. He has not bonded with them, and they do not need to protect him. His role is to protect Noctis, no matter what his biology says. He digs his fingers into Noctis’s ribs firmly enough for him to wince. ‘Move,’ he orders Noctis in a low hiss.

Noctis’s gaze is mutinous, but he does not fight this. Ignis breathes quietly through his nostrils. His capability to bear children does not make him weaker. Alpha or omega, his prince comes first. Gladiolus is already speeding up, his legs taking an accelerated speed that is not exactly natural. They have to keep up with him, because despite Gladiolus’s size, he is fast, and he has stamina for days.

Soon they are back in the relative safety of the Citadel. Ignis calls in a clean-up crew for the MTs outside the club, and they move as one to escort Noctis back into the safe room in the east tower while Gladiolus contacts Cor to activate the safety protocols. The Citadel goes into lockdown even as Ignis seals the safe room they are in. King Regis will lock down in the west tower until Cor deems it safe enough for the both of them to come out.

‘MTs in Crown City. And they knew who they were hunting, and they knew where to find us,’ Ignis says quietly. Prompto is currently curled up in Noctis’s arms, and the both of them were clinging to each other for comfort. Noctis is deep in thought, his handsome face troubled.

‘Why,’ he says quietly. ‘Why are they here?’ His blue eyes lock onto Ignis’s.

Ignis does not know, and he does not have an answer.


	6. Negotiation

Cor releases them from the lockdown a day later. Ignis is curled in Gladiolus’s arms when the phone call comes through. He hears Gladiolus speak into it in a low tone, and he listens, but does not glean much more information other than the Citadel is secure and Regis wants to see Noctis in his office as soon as possible.

It is four in the afternoon, while the sun is still up in the sky. He knows that Cor has been working through without sleeping. He feels Gladiolus slide off the cot they share. Ignis gets up as well, casts an eye over the two figures twined around each other, skin against skin. He hopes that they will sleep for a little while longer.

Gladiolus heads out to rendezvous with Cor, and Ignis takes a quick shower and dresses in the clothes he wore last night. They are hopelessly wrinkled, and he can smell the sex on the fabric. But once Gladiolus comes back they would be able to go back to the apartment and he can get dressed in a fresh change of clothes.

He doesn’t like the fact that they were in danger last night, but it helps that they are all in optimal condition after their respective feeds. If there is a fight, they are prepared for it.

By the time Gladiolus returns, Noctis and Prompto are both up, and they all head back to the apartment. Noctis and Gladiolus go upstairs to speak to Regis. Ignis checks on Prompto, and makes them a simple breakfast. They need to keep their energy up.

Noctis comes back in a foul mood. Gladiolus looks troubled. They sit in the living as Ignis nurses a coffee that Prompto has brewed for him. He waits patiently for Noctis to spit it out, and when he does, the vitriol is clear and present. ‘We have Nifs in Insomnia,’ Noctis snarls.

‘What?’ Ignis sits up so quickly that he nearly spills his coffee. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘The emperor’s sending his chancellor and ten airships. They’re currently hovering outside Insomnia, outside the Wall. But they’ve asked for permission to enter the city. They want to discuss a peace treaty.’

‘Bullshit,’ Gladiolus growls. ‘Why now? Why so suddenly?’

Prompto presses his tightly clenched fist against his mouth. ‘I don’t understand. But they initiated hostilities in Crown City already.’

‘They’re denying it so far,’ Noctis answers. ‘I don’t know what they want. But we can’t not honor that request. We have to grant them entry. If this is a chance for peace, we can’t let it go. We just need to find out what they want.’

This is their best option at this point. Regis cannot hold the Wall forever, and the war between Lucis and Niflheim has been long drawn out. Peace is what they all want, but the question is … what did Niflheim want? The Coven of Ifrit was not known for their peace-keeping ways.

And yet, they had to find out. Ignis has an idea, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

‘They’ll be arriving within a couple of hours. Cor is arranging a convoy for those godsdamned Nifs. He’s activating all the security protocols in the Citadel. We’ll be meeting in the throne room.’

‘Do you want us there?’ Prompto asks.

‘Yes, if you’re comfortable with it,’ Noctis answers, stroking Prompto’s cheek affectionately. There is no doubt that they will be there, if not out of love and devotion, then loyalty. Ignis lays out a fresh suit for Noctis – one in midnight black with a dark grey silk shirt. He knows Noctis is shaken, and any additional armor can aid in the façade of confidence.

The atmosphere is terse and silent. No one wants to say anything unnecessary right now, and even Prompto loses some of his usual exuberance. When the time arrives, they escort Noctis to the throne room, flanking him tightly.

There is no other way to describe the way the chancellor flounces into the throne room. He is a tall, built man who is hiding it behind what can be best described as mismatched rags from a second-hand clothing shop. He sashays into the throne, a delighted smile on his face, but his amber eyes flashing in a sardonic manner. He comes with a light escort – only a handful of MTs.

Ignis flexes his fingers, and keeps his daggers close in the Armiger. Gladiolus seems to have the same idea. He shifts his bulk, and stands a little closer to Noctis. On the throne, Regis is sitting rigidly in his stone seat.

‘Greetings, Your Majesty!’ The chancellor bows, and turn to Noctis as well. ‘Your Highness.’

‘Welcome to Insomnia,’ the king says politely, even as his eyes are wary. ‘How can we help you today, Chancellor Izunia?’

Ardyn Izunia presses a hand to his chest, as if Regis’s words have hurt him. ‘Oh my, impatient, aren’t we?’ No one comments at his irreverent tone, as if he is far superior to Regis. ‘I am here to represent Emperor Aldercapt in today’s peace negotiations. I have all the relevant documents on hand, and I have full authority to make whatever decisions that is required for today in order for us to reach a peace treaty.’ He opens his arms, as if showing how magnanimous he is and how willing he is to come to the table.

Regis invites the chancellor to take a seat in the middle of the throne room. In here, Ardyn Izunia is severely outnumbered, and yet it does not feel like he is. He knows that the members of the Coven of Ifrit have the power of fire magic at their fingertips, like the Coven of Bahamut held the grace of the King of Swords. And like any vampire, he has preternatural strength and resilience. But there is something behind those eyes that unsettles him.

He may look like a forty year old, but those eyes read someone much, much older. Vampires already have an extended life, but how old is this man, really? While Regis peruses the documents, Ardyn’s sly gaze wanders over to Noctis.

Ignis stiffens next to him, prepared and ready to do whatever he needs to do to defend Noctis if Ardyn makes a move. But then his gaze sweeps over to Prompto, then lands on Ignis.

And stays there.

Ignis feel frozen to the spot, but he does not shy away from his stare.

Ardyn smiles. It is less of a smile, and more of a lecherous smirk. Full of meaning, full of slyness.

The king cuts to the heart of the matter quickly enough. ‘What is prompting the empire to come forward now? And exactly what it is that you want from us?’

Ardyn clapped patronizingly. ‘My, oh my. You are quite perceptive, Your Majesty. And I really quite like the way you’re so direct. No nonsense. Shooting straight from the hip. And it just so happens that I can answer both questions with one answer.’

Regis waited.

‘Oh, I just wanted to convey my congratulations about your good news last week. A little birdy informed me that one of your coven members manifested as an omega. Prompto, right? Such lovely news, of course. The future of your coven is in no doubt now. You must be exceedingly pleased, Prince Noctis.’

Prompto stiffened so obviously that Ignis placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Regis nodded once in acknowledgement. Noctis did not even bother answering.

‘So imagine how I felt when I heard that yet another omega manifested just yesterday!’ Ardyn declares so joyfully and excitedly that it is obvious he is making a mockery out of all of them. But now it is Ignis himself who has every hair on his body stand up, and cold sweat dribbling down his spine.

How the fuck did news travel so quickly to Niflheim to reach the ears of the chancellor? Did they have a double agent in their midst?

Ignis’s mind is racing ten steps ahead.

He didn’t want to consider that possibility, but he has to now, especially when it is staring at him rather starkly in the face.

‘Ignis, was it?’ Ardyn asks, directing his sardonic smile at him. Ignis keeps his hand firmly on Noctis’s shoulder, pushing him down even as he feels Noctis’s desire to rise to his feet. He can feel the anger brimming inside of Noctis.

‘Chancellor Izunia, please continue,’ Regis orders him.

‘Well, Your Majesty, as you know, omegas manifest so rarely. The Coven of Ifrit is not unlike the Coven of Bahamut. We all want a continuation of our future. And all we want is peace. I’m sure you’re as sick as fighting as we are. And with peace, comes continuity.’

‘I’m going to stop you there, chancellor,’ Regis cuts in. ‘You want us to hand over our omega in exchange for peace.’

‘Well … it’s not such a steep demand, is it?’ Ardyn asks.

‘Ignis has been promised to my son, chancellor. He is a member of Noctis’s pack, and has pledged to complete his soul bond with his pack mates.’

‘Pledged … eh?’ Ardyn laughs, and his laugh is horrible. ‘Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing that we got here on time, and the soul bond hasn’t been completed yet. Wouldn’t it be such a pity if we couldn’t come to an agreement because you no longer have an omega to spare?’

‘You want us to trade one of our own to the empire for the sake of peace?’ Regis says, and his voice is cold. Ignis has never heard him speak like that before.

‘Yes!’ Ardyn says so happily that Ignis half-expects him to jump up and down and clap his hands like a fucking seal. ‘Isn’t that a cheap trade? The emperor is old, as you know. He’s mellowed out with age. He wants rest, after all. War no longer means anything to him. So don’t you think that this is a pretty good deal on the table?’

To Ignis’s dismay and understanding, Regis sits back on his throne. ‘If this is your offer, chancellor, we need time to consider it.’

‘Of course,’ Ardyn claps his hands together. ‘Take all the time you wish.’ He stands. ‘Oh, and one more thing. We are not accepting any counter-offers.’

‘What’s the point of a negotiation if you’re not going to accept a counter-offer?’ The king is furious, but he conceals it well.

‘Well, I’m afraid there’s not much of a choice for you. The Wall will not hold forever, and it is only a matter of time that we take Insomnia. Already I can sense the Wall is weakening. You wouldn’t want a few Magitek Troopers to just walk in right under your nose, would you?’ Ardyn’s face is filled with glee and malice, and Ignis now knows that tonight’s attack serves two purposes - they are trying to undermine their confidence, and show that they now have the upper hand precisely because they have managed to breach the Wall with a handful of MTs.

Regis no longer speaks, but Ignis can see the fury in his face. He doubles down on his grip on Noctis’s shoulder.

Ardyn does not even look remotely playful anymore. ‘I am here for an omega, and I won’t leave without one. I don’t care which one I get – the blond twink or the overly serious brunette. Either will do. But of course, there’s only one currently unbonded.’ Ardyn shrugs. ‘But I’ll leave you to work it out. Now, I’ll be in my room when you have made a decision.’

As he walks away, he sniffs the air. ‘Mmm, isn’t that wonderful, those scents? Flowers … and vanilla?’ He keeps sniffing, and Ignis can feel his entire body flush in humiliation and fear. ‘These omegas smell utterly _delightful_.’

Noctis waits until the double doors close behind Ardyn and his retinue before he shakes Ignis’s hand off his shoulder violently and springs to his feet. ‘Fuck him!’

Regis sighs and rubs his fingers over his temple. ‘Noctis.’

‘I’m not giving up either of them,’ Noctis says quietly, resolutely.

‘Not here, Noctis,’ Regis deflects. ‘We can discuss this in private. Let me speak to my councilors first, and then I’ll send for you.’

Noctis looks like he is on the verge of losing his temper, which has Ignis gripping his arm so tightly that his fingernails are digging into flesh. ‘Noctis,’ he says warningly in a low tone. Noctis shakes him off once again, but relents, walking to the waiting chamber adjacent to the throne room. Prompto follows him immediately, as does Gladiolus.

Ignis is part of the king’s council, but he is a junior member. Although he is fairly sure that this is the one council meeting they do not want him participating in. They are debating his fate, after all.

Although … what is there to debate? It is clear what should be done.

Ignis’s logical side definitely understands the decision that needs to take place. The prospect of peace simply in exchange for a single person? To sacrifice only one person? This is not a deal, it is practically a gift.

It is simply too bad that he is the person at the end of the deal.

Regis has always cared greatly for him, viewing him fondly almost as if he was an adopted son. But he is a king first and foremost, and he has millions of citizens he needs to protect, not to mention the throne that he protects so desperately for his son. One person, no matter how loved, no matter how cherished, cannot be the choice he makes over peace.

He turns, and follows Noctis as he stomps into the chamber.

Noctis rounds on him. ‘What the fuck, Iggy? I know what you’re thinking, and don’t even fucking go there! This is not negotiable!’ He roars like a wounded lion.

There is nothing Ignis can say. His fate is not entirely in his hands.

When he had woken up this morning, he dreaded the idea of becoming bonded to someone else outside of Noctis’s pack. He had considered Cor to the best choice, and yet somehow his heart hadn’t been keen at all.

Now he would give anything to be able to pick any other pack within the Coven of Bahamut, if that meant he could stay in Insomnia. He was fucking terrified, and while he was known for having an impressive way with words, it was a trait that was now failing him, as it had since a day ago when he had manifested.

Secretly, selfishly, he wishes that he had manifested first, and it was Prompto instead who was in this dilemma. Ignis had been the one who had been with Noctis since he was a boy of six. He had known nothing but the prince. His heart, his loyalty, his fidelity belonged to Noctis, and Noctis alone.

He is ashamed of himself, and the thoughts he is having. How low could he be that he wished that Prompto was in his place instead?

Gladiolus touches his back, but Ignis does not want to be touched right now. He politely gets up, and walks to the windows.

He can admit this to himself – he knows that his fate is as good as written in stone, and he is terrified.


	7. Surrender

Noctis and Ignis are sitting in the king’s office.

The office is done up with an elegant, muted opulence. Here the deep blue carpets are thick and plush, and the teak furniture crafted by the best carpenters in Insomnia. Unlike the throne room, this room is intensely personal. There is a couple of photo frames on his enormous desk. They are golden gilded frames that are pictures of Noctis when he was four, and one when he reached adulthood.

Across the room there is a canvas of watercolors in mellow pastels, and another group of photo frames laid out on a sideboard. He knows one of the photos is a shot of Ignis and Noctis, their arms slung around each other. They are round about ten years old in that shot, both small and skinny with skinned knees and youthful sweat.

Ignis knows that the king regards him with a great deal of affection, perhaps even some degree of paternal love. But no amount of love can make him disregard the opportunity at hand to protect his people, where he is as good as the father figure to millions of his citizens.

Ignis knows that, because if their positions were reversed, he would resolutely and undoubtedly make the same decision.

Regis knows that Ignis knows, and his own alpha scent is thicker in the air. His scent is a deep woody aroma, reminiscent of the enormous silent forests surrounded by mist and fog. He is probably emanating that scent in hopes to calm his son, and the omega inside of Ignis.

‘Ignis, you have been like a son to me,’ Regis begins. ‘I want you to know that-’

‘Cut the bullshit, dad,’ Noctis barks. ‘If you’re going to go ahead and do this, then there is nothing to fucking discuss.’

‘Language, Noct,’ Ignis chides gently.

Noctis turns on him, and Ignis can see the desperation in his eyes. Out of love, and out of fear, Ignis knows. ‘Fuck me, Ignis. You want to voluntary go, have them lead you like a lamb to slaughter? Are you even remotely aware of what might be waiting for you if you choose to agree to their terms? Do you look forward to being treated like a bloody breeding animal?’

‘Enough, Noct!’ Ignis flares up, his eyes sparking with anger. He has rarely, if ever spoken to Noctis this way. And certainly not in front of the king. ‘You and I both know what we have to do next. This is but a small sacrifice if we can obtain the peace we have fought for, for so long. Do you think I am ignorant of the treatment that awaits me if I choose to submit to the empire as an omega?’

‘Then why are you not even fighting this?’ Noctis asks so flatly, so wearily that Ignis is tempted to look away.

‘Because … this is the only way.’

‘We can fight,’ Noctis snaps. ‘We don’t have to accept their peace terms. We can fight.’

‘And for how long?’ It is Ignis’s turn to feel weariness now. ‘Our coven is much smaller, and we have yet to replenish our ranks since our last skirmish. And before you say that we can turn the humans, that is not an option. There aren’t many of them left. If we turn all the humans under us, there will be no one left to feed on. And … your father. The Wall is taking too much of a toll on him.’ Ignis steadfastly avoids Regis’s gaze. ‘He cannot do this forever. The empire can crush us if they wish, and they have had the ability to do so for a very long time now. You cannot be prince if there is no kingdom left for you to defend.’

‘Don’t you dare say you’re doing this for me, Ignis,’ Noctis begins, and Ignis has never seen him so angry.

‘I’m not,’ Ignis replies evenly. Even though it is. Everything that he has done, he has done for Noctis. His life has been Noctis’s the moment they met. Noctis is imprinted in his heart, his mind, his soul, and it does not matter if the soul bond isn’t completed. Noctis is his everything, and he would gladly lay down his life to defend him. This … is not nothing, but it is not worse than death.

He hopes.

Noctis moves so fast that for a moment Ignis thinks he is warping, but then Noctis fills his sight and he has yanked Ignis up to his toes, gripping the lapels of his smoke-grey jacket. ‘I will not let this happen, even if it means I have to force you into a soul bond.’ Noctis snarls and flashes his incisors.

In the corner of his eyes he sees Regis stand up, lifting one hand up as a blue light envelops the room. ‘Noctis,’ is the only thing he says as Noctis slumps unconscious to the ground. Noctis may have been the strongest vampire he’s known in terms of power and strength, but he does not have the power of kings yet within him. Regis still holds that honor, and as the leader of the coven, his orders are absolute.

Ignis crouches down, tucking his hands underneath Noctis’s back, under the armpits, and the other around his knees. He lifts and carries Noctis to the leather couch, and deposits him gently. When was the last time he had picked up Noctis?

He doesn’t quite remember, although it is with a certainty that he held a boy in his arms, not a man’s. Noctis has filled out considerably since then, no longer an awkward scrawny kid with skinny legs. But now there are corded muscles underneath his clothes, a compactness to his body that suggests a body in his prime.

Ignis presses a kiss to Noctis’s unmoving lips. A part of him wishes that Noctis succeeded in his foolish attempt to bond. If he had bitten Ignis, Ignis would have bitten back. His souls yearns for the completion of his bond more than anything. But the moment is over and it is not meant to be. Hot tears drop fast and readily onto Noctis’s beautiful face, peaceful in repose.

Ignis wipes them away. He gets up, and walks up to Regis, who has remained standing. His face is calm and expressionless, but when Ignis takes his hand he can feel the tension, and anger, and the regret. Ignis gets down on both knees, and presses his face to his king’s hand.

For an instant he wants to throw away all dignity, and beg for mercy. Beg for him not to be sent away to enemy territory where he has no doubt they will try to force multiple bonds on him in other to impregnate him successfully. He knows when he walks out of Insomnia, he will never again return. This is permanent, and this is forever. Suddenly the blessing of a long life as a vampire seems more like an unwanted burden more than anything.

But he knows no matter how much he begs, Regis will not give him what he wants. Ignis knows this, because if he was king, he could not let a moment of weakness be the death of his kingdom and his son’s reign.

Regis opens his mouth as if to speak again, but it is almost like he is having trouble finding the words. Ignis understands.

Oh, he understands the truth all right. Too much, too deeply, too intimately.

Suddenly he does not want to hear the words that Regis might possibly fumble with in order to tell him how this has to be done for the good of the kingdom, how his sacrifice will bring peace, how much he regrets making this decision.

‘Your Majesty,’ Ignis whispers, even as his forehead is still pressing against Regis’s hand. ‘I am willing. Please release me from my pledge. I hope you will convey my love and adoration to Noctis. Please protect him for as long as you are able to, and I wish you only peace for the rest of your days.’

Regis’s free hand snakes behind Ignis’s head, and strokes his hair gently. A fierce squeeze, and then a small pat. ‘I hereby release you from your oath and pledge to the Coven of Bahamut, and the throne of Lucis. Your oath to Noctis Lucis Caelum is no more. I order you to go forth, and give yourself to the empire so that our coven may flourish and continue.’

Ignis feels the prickle of tears behind his eyes as they flow haplessly against Regis’s hand. He reins himself in, and takes a deep breath. Then he kisses the Ring of the Lucii. He may have been released from his pledge, but his love and loyalty to the kingdom and its rulers can never die so long as they remain deep in his heart.

Then he lets go, and gets to his feet. He does not give either men one last look. The moment for that is over.

He takes the long route back to the apartment. He knows these long hallowed halls and endless corridors well. He knows the shortcuts and location of every single administrative room. The windows are open and the night air smells sweet to him now that he will be walking away from his home. He wonders if it is any easier to be dragged off kicking and screaming, fighting and resisting every step of the way instead of accepting it with grace. 

He doesn’t know, but this is the path he chose.

When he gets back to the apartment, all he can hear is Prompto’s muffled sobbing.

For a moment Ignis cannot bring himself to go into the apartment. He doesn’t want to hear and receive Prompto and Gladiolus’s sorrow and reluctance. Dealing with Noctis has been exhausting enough. But he wants to at least say goodbye, in whatever capacity he is able to.

He walks in, feeling like a tired old man. He goes straight to his room and pulls down a small valise. He won’t need many things, he know. And he doesn’t know if they will let him keep it anyway. He packs a neat stack of his favorite shirts and pants. He wonders for a fleeting moment that they will even allow him to be dressed, considering what they truly need him for – a brood mare. He shakes that terrifying thought away. If he loses his nerve now, he will never be able to step out of this apartment.

He discards his favorite pen and coffee cup. All these things now unimportant in the face of his new role. Is this what his life has come down to? All these once precious things, now superfluous and distinctly useless. Is this what he has accumulated in the thirty years he has been here at the Citadel? That his human life and vampire life has been both been so incredulously boring, so dutiful that he had no knick knacks and useless things that he could bring with him, that there was nothing that he could possibly draw comfort from. What did that say about him?

That perhaps everything that he wants to bring with him is already inside of him?

Or possibly that he must leave the things, the people he loves, behind?

In the end he packs only his clothes and closes up the valise. There is a soft knock at his door. ‘Come in,’ he says, and is pleased that his voice sounds steady and normal, as if his world is not crumbling around him.

Prompto comes in with Gladiolus, and Ignis finds that he cannot look them in the eyes. A few days ago he envied the three of them because they had bonded and he had not, but that the envy has mutated into something distinctly uglier – it is much bigger than him, much more troublesome than jealousy. It is consuming him from within, and he bats it back with his willpower. Self-control, willpower, and discipline – this is all he has left.

He knows Gladiolus cannot speak, and when Ignis does catch his gaze, he realizes that out of all three of them, Gladiolus is the one who understands his decision best. The pureblood vampire was raised as an Amicitia, which means that his life is duty and obedience. As the prince’s Shield, he has literally pledged his life away in service to the crown. This is the same decision he would have made.

Ignis allows Gladiolus to pull him into his arms and envelop him in tight bands of muscled steel. Behind him, he feels Prompto lean into his back, tentative and afraid that Ignis will reject him.

Ignis feels a sudden surge of sympathy for Prompto. He must feel a ridiculous amount of guilt for what has happened, and how it could have gone differently, even though none of this is his fault. But he knows Prompto, and knows that his ball of sunshine will carry this darkness inside of him for a long time to come. Prompto, the one who always tries harder than any of them to plaster a smile on his face when he is not feeling it. The one who always worries that he’s not supposed to be there, and that he’s not one of them. Sweet, sensitive Prompto, who’s always the first to reach out his hand even though he’s deathly afraid that he will be rejected.

He cannot wish away the darkness that he will leave behind with his absence, but the very least he can do is alleviate the burden as much as he can for the men he loves. In time, they will remember the cheap words instead of the hidden feelings behind the unspoken.

‘This is not your fault, Prompto. I do not blame you. I am willing, and this is one of the ways I can serve.’ In this world where omegas are as good as endangered, their bodies do not belong to them, but to the master of a grander purpose. This was his destiny the moment he had touched the hilt of the sword and his knees did not buckle to the ground.

‘Fuck, Iggy, fuck the Astrals and their fucking plans,’ Gladiolus’s voice is harsh and gruff, and Ignis is reminded that while Gladiolus might understand, he does not do so willingly. Ignis has to hold himself for the two of them. If he breaks down now, it is over.

But damned if he will allow their last moment of intimacy to be a quick fuck in a dirty alley. Noctis is not here, but that is for the best. He is the last string that will hold on, never caring if it is cut with blades of destiny.

He wants to be selfish for once in his life, because as far as he knows, this will be the last time. If not now, then when?

Best not to dwell on it. He flashes his incisors, then swoops down on the tender juncture of Gladiolus’s neck. The blood flows swiftly and sweetly into his mouth, ambrosia that will bring him to a certain madness. Gladiolus hoists him up and tosses him onto his bed. He cannot decide if he wants to take or give, but does it even matter anymore?

Their scents are mingling in the air when their clothes are shed – that earthiness mingling with sweet vanilla and flowers trampled under careless feet. He is as naked as the day he was born into this life, both human and vampire. The slick that his body produces unashamedly flows freely and down his thighs. That fluid itself, the sealer of his fate, also enables access to his two lovers as they pour love and devotion and regret and guilt into him. He is sandwiched between the both of them, the pain and pleasure keeping him rooted to the spot. He can feel his muscles stretching beyond his usual limits. But he welcomes the pain, because it keeps him grounded. The pleasure, he will etch into his muscles, down to every sinew and tendon, so when he is forced to fuck someone else, whoever that is, he will remember only the men who loved him so dearly.

Prompto and Gladiolus work in tandem. One fucking into him while the other withdraws, then the other thrusting hard while the other pulls out. With every stroke they are brushing against his prostate, sending electric shocks of pleasure up and down his spine and builds into an unbelievable pressure that detonates his entire world and sends him soaring to the sky before plunging onto the cold, hard ground that is reality. He screams their names with his lips, and he screams Noctis’s in his heart.

He refuses a shower because he wants to keep the scent of his lovers on him, like an invisible sentinel that he will carry with him onto foreign soil. He wants the reminder of the dried slick on his thighs, and the thick come coating his insides dripping and staining his underwear. He wants them inside of him, with him. Other than the pathetic suitcase of clothes, this is all that he can carry with him.

He wonders if he will ever see them again. His rock. His sunshine. His prince.

He wonders if the empire will relent to releasing him if he births them half a dozen vampire brats. Or would they send him way because he is useless if he does not complete the soul bond? How much can he resist?

He does not want them to see him walk away. He cannot bear the pain in their eyes. He tears through Prompto’s shoulder and drinks and drinks and drinks, gorging himself on his blood until Prompto’s knees buckle and he is saying, ‘Please stop, Iggy,’ before he collapses into unconsciousness.

Ignis is full of blood, but he doesn’t care. He snarls at Gladiolus, who offers up his neck willingly. ‘I love you, Ignis.’

‘Gladio … don’t let him come after me. Keep him here.’

‘I can’t promise …’ Gladio starts, and that is not the answer Ignis wants. Anger drives him to sink his teeth in, and drinks until Gladiolus sags in his arms. He releases the larger man from his hold, and wipes his mouth. He wants to vomit, but he won’t.

He will hold it all in his mouth, his belly, and his thighs. It is all he has left inside of him.


	8. Acclimatization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the trigger warnings! 
> 
> Things veer into super dodgy territory here, and all the trigger warnings will come into play. If this bothers you, please stop. Things get a lot worse before they get better, and this is where it begins.

Hours later, he finds himself on an airship heading towards Niflheim territory on a one-way journey. Gralea, the seat of the empire, will be their end destination.

This particular airship is not like the ugly dropships that have encountered before, on road trips roaming up and down the dusty lands of Leide. It is opulent and lavish, almost unnecessarily so. He gathers this airship is probably the luxury transport of the emperor or the chancellor, and he understands instantly that everything has gone according to Ardyn’s plan. He hadn’t come looking for a fight, only an omega. And he has obtained one, without really giving the Lucians anything in exchange. Peace, he had promised, but it is not something to shows up instantly. They must play the long game, and for now, Ardyn has walked out as flamboyantly as he walked in.

Ignis has been escorted quite politely into his cabin. They are giving him due respect for now, as the room is gorgeously done up in creams and blacks, stylish and warm at the same time. He can feel himself begin to flag. Dawn was a few hours ago, but Ignis is too tensed to go to sleep. Not now, when he is in what he considers enemy territory.

There is a facetious knock at the door, and it opens even when Ignis does not say anything. Ardyn walks in, shoulders relaxed. Ignis sits stiffly at an armchair, crystal highball in hand, three generous fingers of whiskey in it. Alcohol does not affect his vampiric metabolism in that he cannot get drunk, but it has the bonus effect of calming him.

Ardyn swans into the room, and plops down in the armchair in front of Ignis. Up close, he’s a lot bigger than he looks. Ignis is no runt himself, but it feels like Ardyn tops him out by quite a few inches. There is a coiled energy inside that deceptively calm posture, and those amber eyes gleam with a malicious mischief.

He has that small smile hovering around his mouth, and Ignis merely stares at him. He will not speak first, and he is certainly in no mood to be polite. Ardyn’s smile widens the longer the silence goes on, and it’s clear that he’s in the mood to toy with his food.

‘How are you feeling right now?’ Ardyn asks, and Ignis blinks. Of all the taunts he thinks Ardyn will start with, this is not one of them.

‘Why do you care how I feel?’ Ignis replies quietly.

‘You’re right, I don’t,’ Ardyn says. ‘You know what, Ignis darling? I think you’re positively _adorable._ You really should be groveling at my feet right now, begging for mercy.’

‘Why would I beg for mercy when it won’t change a thing?’

‘You’re really quite the contrarian, aren’t you? Are you afraid of me?’

Ignis met that stare head-on. ‘Terrified.’

Ardyn laughs. ‘Is it because you know what I will do to you? Or is it because you don’t know?’

Ignis refuses to answer.

‘Let me enlighten you then,’ Ardyn says. ‘You have been given up in exchange for peace. The Coven of Ifrit have not have an omega manifest for about two generations now. The expectation for you is to bond with one of the alphas of your choosing, and to carry as many vampire brats as you are able to before you will bond with another alpha. Your life will be in servitude to the empire, and you will fulfil your destiny as your biology demands it.’

Ignis is surprised that he gets to choose his alpha. But it makes sense. Omegas cannot get pregnant until a soul bond has been formed, and for the soul bond to cement it needs to be willing on the omega’s side. At least he gets a choice in a reality where all of it has practically been taken from him.

But does he really? If they’re simply going to shove an alpha at him one after the other, that’s not really a choice, is it? But before he can school his expression, Ardyn catches it.

‘What, did you not think you will have a choice in picking your partner? Did you think we will demand that you spread your thighs for any available rutting alpha?’ Ardyn laughs, his horrible laughter echoing in the spacious cabin. ‘No, goodness. We aren’t savage animals here, darling! Let me enlighten you then. I’ve come up with an absolutely exciting shortlist of handsome, hot alphas for you.’

Ignis crosses his legs, and braces himself.

‘Let’s see. Candidate number one!’ Ardyn says in a mocking, sing-song voice. ‘Our stoic, handsome High Commander Glauca! You’ve seen him before, eh? Iron man who likes cosplaying in a metal suit of armor. He’s pretty cute, if you like your alphas strong and silent. Now, you might think that’s he’s a dumb jock, but he’s shockingly manipulative for someone who doesn’t speak much, I have to say. Repressed enough to have a constantly turgid dick. Might have a streak of sadist in him too. The type who will probably fuck you while you sleep, I’m guessing.’

Ignis does not flinch. He merely blinks, and breathes.

‘Now, if that doesn’t rock your boat, let’s move on the candidate number two. He’s a pretty boy, in a manly yet effeminate way. Long white hair, very aristocratic profile. He’s not a talker, but when he does, he uses big words. That’s something you two might have in common. Intellectual, yet stuffy. Our very own Deputy High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret, once loyal ally to Lucis, now lapdog for the empire. Prince of Tenebrae. You have a thing for princes, don’t you? He’s the strong and sensitive type, hmm, he might probably cry if you stare at him for too long. Now, if you can overlook his strange relationship with his sister – he’s either too overprotective or it’s incest, and _personally_ I’m leaning towards the latter – pretty solid possibility there.’

Ignis takes a good slug of his whiskey.

‘Candidate number three. He’s rich, he’s clever, and he’s the most powerful man in the empire! Except he’s old as fuck, and his face looks like his ball sac. Singular, I might add. Emperor Aldercapt! Oh, he’s sexy too, if you’re into saggy, wrinkly skin and _eau de_ old man. I can’t guarantee that he can still get it up, the man’s been a vampire for too long, so that will practically guarantee you’ll be riding him all the time because he can barely crawl out of bed.’

Ignis is forcing himself not to cringe at the way Ardyn so casually slings dirt at the people that he actually works with. He tells himself to concentrate. No matter how mocking his tone is, Ardyn is actually laying out the candidates for him.

Ardyn gets up and picks up the tumbler of whiskey and pours himself a drink. ‘Now, if you’re not into men, we have a perfectly lovely woman for you. She’s more alpha that the three of the previous ones put together, and she’s got balls for days. She’s snarky as hell, and rather good company if you get a couple of drinks into her. She’s gorgeous, has tits out to here.’ Ardyn gestures vaguely at his own chest and stretches his arms in a lively manner. ‘But she won’t fuck you unless you’ve got some moolah on you. She’s a mercenary in every sense of the word. Probably has a pay-as-you-fuck system. So unless you’ve got some spare cash to cough up, she probably won’t breed you. Still though. Great attitude, too bad she barely likes anyone.’

He comes back only to perch his hip against the arm of Ignis’s seat. The alpha’s scent is strong, and something he has never ever smelled before. It is deep as it is noxious, although not entirely unpleasant. He smells woodsy and smoky, like a forest that is on fire. There is a vague stench of blood on him, and Ignis wonders if he has just fed. And with him looming over Ignis like that, hip pressed into his arm, discomfort is an understatement. 

Ignis wants to slink out of the seat and moves as far away as he can, but he will not falter now. He sits tight, and takes another fortifying drink.

‘So you get to pick one out of the four. No pressure, you see. Take your time.’

‘But not you?’ Ignis doesn’t want to ask, but he does, because this is a surprise to him.

‘Why, how flattering!’ Ardyn opens his arms with a flourish, and glides an uninvited hand down his back. That shiver that goes down his skin is involuntary. He does not want to be touched, not by this mysterious man who towers over him, who speaks with such irreverence, who just maneuvered Lucis into giving up their spare omega in the matter of a day.

The fatigue inside of him is getting worse, and inversely the desire to sleep is lessening. He’s too afraid to sleep now, not when Ardyn is this close.

‘And to answer your question, I’m not one of the four candidates, simply because I have no interest in breeding any children. No, thank you.’ He stared at Ignis, his expression now completely taken over by one of intense hunger. The abrupt change is shocking, and Ignis wonders if the man is bipolar. His free hand leaves Ignis’s back, and slides forward to hold Ignis’s wrist tightly. His intentions are clear and apparent, leaving no room whatsoever for misunderstanding.

‘Let me go,’ Ignis whispers. ‘You said that you will give me time to pick my alpha, and you aren’t one of them.’

‘That doesn’t mean that we can’t have a little fun before that happens,’ Ardyn says. ‘After all, we’re both free agents, bound to no one, are we not?’

Ignis tries to yank his hand back, but he does not even budge an inch. Ardyn has his wrist in a death grip. ‘No.’

‘You’re a delectable little omega,’ Ardyn continues. ‘You smell wonderful. Of course, I won’t lie and say that I’m not a little disappointed that they’ve chosen to trade you instead of that adorable little blond. I have a thing for cute blonds, you see. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.’

‘No,’ Ignis says again, his heart sinking. ‘I’ll pick an alpha. I’ll pick one now.’

‘No, no,’ Ardyn says genially. ‘You said you wanted time, there’s no hurry whatsoever. I won’t hear of you rushing into a decision when it’s such an important one!’ Ardyn drinks from his glass, and Ignis futilely struggles to squirm out of his grip.

Vampires have preternatural strength, but whatever Ardyn has … he has more than that. Way beyond that. Ignis feels like a helpless little animal in the clutches of a large, oversized predator.

Ignis tells himself to calm down. He has expected this, and he has told himself to prepare for it. And yet, when the time is here, he can’t _not_ fight. He can’t help the fear that grips him so tightly, the same way Ardyn’s hand is wrapped around his wrist.

Ignis drops his glass of whiskey and before the crystal even hits the ground he has pulled the daggers from the Armiger and has slashed Ardyn across the neck. As fresh, dark blood spurts from his jugular, Ignis finds his wrist released, and he plunges the other dagger into Ardyn’s chest.

This is the only way to kill a vampire – to stab him in the heart. He doesn’t think about the consequences. He will deal with it if he has to. But right now, his instincts are telling him that Ardyn is dangerous.

He watches in horror as Ardyn does the exact opposite of what should be happening – he is not dead, and this is not possible. The skin around his neck is already knitting together with a vampire’s innate healing magic, and Ignis’s dagger is still in his chest. Ardyn sighs, and pulls the dagger out of himself.

‘Ignis, how disappointing,’ Ardyn sighs. ‘Let’s not start our new relationship like this, shall we?’

‘There is no relationship,’ Ignis says automatically. He dismisses the daggers and summons them back into his own hand, holding it in front of his body, so that he is ready for whatever Ardyn might do next.

‘On the contrary. I like your spunk, you know that?’ Ardyn’s voice is calm. ‘I thought I would enjoy breaking that little blond. That gorgeous freckled face crying and sobbing and begging me to stop, isn’t that a lovely thought? But it looks like you’re going to give him a run for his money.’

‘I’m not going to cry, and I’m not going to beg,’ Ignis hisses.

‘I know. I’m definitely going to try, though,’ Ardyn grins at him.

Ignis braces himself.

Ardyn’s hand shoots out even as Ignis slashes at him, but he is not fast enough. Ardyn already has one hand over his wrist again, and twists Ignis’s arm hard against his back, forcing him to drop his dagger. He slams Ignis’s other hand onto the floor, pinning the dagger to the ground. And then he drops his weight onto Ignis’s wrist, breaking it cleanly in two.

Vampires can feel pain the same way humans can, and this is excruciating. Ignis bites his tongue and the cry of pain that emerges off the tip of his tongue. Ardyn gets off him, and drags him over the ground with his one arm still behind him. Ignis spins around in an ungainly manner and keeps his broken wrist close to his chest in order to protect it, but his leather dress shoes are skittering helplessly across the carpeted floor as he is moved against his will.

Ardyn picks him up like he is a rag doll, and tosses him onto the bed. He lands on the soft bedspread, and cringes in pain. His wrist is throbbing madly, but it is nothing compared to the fear and adrenaline that is now drenching his veins. He has told himself to prepare for this, but it is now evidently clear that this is not something that anyone can prepare for.

‘But here is a choice you can now make,’ Ardyn says, leaning over him, pressing his stiff erection against Ignis’s crotch. ‘You can either submit willingly, or you can fight me. With broken bones.’

‘You already broke my wrist!’ Ignis snaps even as he can feel the magic inside of him knit his bones together. It stings and aches, but it is doing what it needs to do.

‘More broken bones, then,’ Ardyn says flippantly. ‘A crushed skull, if necessary.’

Ignis cradles his broken wrist in his hand. ‘No one touches me until we have a fucking soul bond,’ Ignis spits. ‘I may be an omega, but I’m nobody’s whore.’

Ardyn shocks him with what he does next – he laughs. ‘Why, you’re so gutsy! I didn’t expect this of you, when you look so straight-laced and boring! I like you, you’re fun.’

‘Get off me.’

Ardyn looks at him with assessing eyes. ‘I’m going to fuck you, whether you like it or not.’

Ardyn is going to fuck him regardless of whether he wants it. But there is one thing he can do. He can stop fighting, and pretend that he has made a choice, like he has the slightest agency in giving consent to whatever will happen to him next. He will control what he can in a reality where he has none whatsoever. Would that make him feel better when it is all done and dusted?

He hopes so.

Ignis flexes his now healed wrist. He starts to unbutton his shirt. 

‘That’s a wise choice,’ Ardyn smiles, and flashes his incisors. He doesn’t drink yet, only sits up to watch him languidly, like he has all the time in the world. Ignis pulls his shirt off himself, and tosses it to the ground. His belt buckle is the next to go, and then his pants, shoes and socks. This is just sex, he tells himself.

And finally, he removes his underwear. Then he stares up at Ardyn, defiance and fury in his eyes.


	9. Submission

‘This is a good look for you,’ Ardyn comments even as he leans close enough to invade what is left of Ignis’s tiny bubble of personal space. Ignis forces himself to be still, to not summon his daggers even though that his hands are itching so hard to do so. Ardyn closes the distance between them, and he removes Ignis’s glasses from his nose, his touch light as a feather. He puts the glasses on the bedside table before shifting back, this time depositing himself right in front of Ignis.

He is so close to him that all Ignis needs to do is tip his head and their foreheads will touch. Ardyn is drawing this out in an excruciatingly slow fashion, and Ignis orders himself to hold still. He will lose this self-imposed game of consent if he moves away, or flinches in his grasp. Ardyn’s fingers trail from his ankle up to his thigh, stopping at the tensed muscles of his calf, prodding gently, as if he is testing for doneness in cooked meat.

Ignis is perched on the bed, not exactly sitting, not exactly crouching either. His posture is one of a cornered animal, ready to lash out and attack because what is at stake is his life.

Ignis has never been prudish. In his human life he has bedded many once he reached the age of consent, both men and women. As a vampire he has come to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh immensely, and has made his way up and down the coven. Vampires do not have the same attachments of morality that he vaguely did when he was human, and in his preternatural life he has slept with anything that moves and has a heartbeat.

But when Noctis had gathered them in a pack, that behavior stopped, partially because he was committed to them, and mostly because he had three lovers, who were at the peak of their masculinity and had varied love-making styles, of which they were rather accomplished technically. He liked being fucked six ways to Sunday, and enjoyed dominating them in turn. The arrangements for coupling were never predictable, and never boring.

This is different. This is … complicated. Because as much as Ignis has slept around, he has never once done what he hadn’t wanted to. And he does not want Ardyn to touch him not because he is not attractive or emanates that powerful alpha scent that is so attractive to his innate omega, but because of who he is, and who he represents. He resents Ardyn, who has single-handedly put him into this position.

But he has to. He has to, or Ardyn will rape him.

His reluctance already means this will be some form of rape, but Ignis refuses to think that way. He refuses to see himself as a victim. Fate has already fucked him over, but he must make the best out of this situation. Ardyn cannot be hurt by conventional means, he has already surmised that. It is something that bears further investigation, but for now, he is fighting to gain the upper hand in a losing battle.

Ardyn’s hand is now drifting upward, skimming against the hard curve of his hips and then glides back down to his inner thigh. Then he pushes a single finger into Ignis, all the while they lock gazes. Ignis refuses to blink, refuses to flinch, as that dry finger penetrates him. He is tight and dry, and his muscles do not like that invasive finger.

But the imperatives of his new body overrides his natural reticence, and his body begins to soften in response to that single finger thrusting in and out. The slow trickle of slick lubricates his body and softens that dry patches that was left behind by the mess made by his lovers hours ago. And suddenly he is too wet, and one finger becomes two, and his muscles are pliant and soft.

‘Oh, you’re a filthy little whore down here, aren’t you?’ Ardyn chuckles darkly. ‘What an incredible mess. You have so many scents inside of you. Did they all give you nice farewell fucks before you left?’ His free hand pushes down on his thigh, nudging him further apart for Ardyn to stick a third finger in.

The muscles in Ignis’s belly vibrates. Those fingers are too much for him, and he blows out a breath. His hands are fisted into the thin quilted overlay on the bed. If it was any one of his lovers in front of him, he would have reached out for them already, held them close to his heart. But as it is now, he does not want to touch Ardyn.

Those fingers now begin a rhythm, in and out, in and out, stretching him. It is ironic that his lovers almost never take it this slow – he quite likes it rough, and sex as a foursome often mean that slow foreplay is minimized especially when there are three other beasts to satiate.

Ignis can smell his own arousal, and he can definitely smell Ardyn’s. The scents are starting to mingle in the air the more slick he produces, until it smells like a sweet, smoky forest. When they are this close together, all he can see are Ardyn’s eyes, black ringed with yellow gold, blown and dilated. He wants Ignis, if he didn’t know already from the hard cock pressed against Ignis’s thigh. He has yet to remove any of his bargain bin getup, while Ignis wears only his skin.

The inequality of power is obvious enough for the obtuse, and Ignis knows that if he wants to even the playing field in any way possible and maintain the illusion of agency, he must get his hands dirty.

He stiffens his shoulders in resolution, and extends his hands. He wants to rip the ugly upholstery off Ardyn because it offends him, but the reality is, that is not the only thing about that man that offends him. Ardyn relents, and even cooperates to a certain extent, letting Ignis pull off his clothes and tossing it down irreverently to the floor. It looks and feels like carpet material, and Ignis wishes it would stay there.

There. Now Ardyn is as naked as him, and they are even. Or are they?

When they are this close, Ignis realizes all his prior expectations have flown out of the window. Ardyn has a strong, powerful body, with not a single ounce of fat on him. His sheer bulk is complemented by his height, and he makes Ignis look like an undernourished child. He reminds Ignis a little of Gladiolus in terms of size, but where Gladiolus is still soft to the touch and still feels human, the man does not. He is so pale that Ignis’s mind is frantically racing, wondering how old Ardyn is exactly for him to look like sculpted marble. His skin is smooth and hard to the touch, and Ignis suddenly understands that this is a vampire who has lived far too long.

The obscene squelching sounds made by Ardyn’s fingers slipping in and out of him makes Ardyn chuckle. ‘So wet and soft right here. Is there any doubt in your mind that you are omega, and clearly made to be fucked and bred?’

Incensed that Ardyn has so carelessly mentioned the complicated matter of his biology when he himself is still wrestling with this new reality has him snapping his thighs closed, with Ardyn’s fingers still inside of him and his eyes flashing in glee. He trembles with displeasure even as he realizes that this is a bad move, letting Ardyn know how much grief his new status has caused him and to reveal his emotions.

No, he corrects himself. It is a mistake to have any emotions at all with regards to his own biology, this despicable arrangement, and this situation he has found himself in.

He relaxes his thighs again, and now Ardyn buries his fingers right up to his knuckles. Ignis grits his teeth, and wonders why the fuck Ardyn is taking his time. He just wants it done, and he wants it over with. But a quick glance at the man’s infernal smile notifies Ignis exactly why Ardyn is drawing this out.

He closes his eyes, and draws on the tremendous well of patience he has deep inside. Self-control. Discipline. Temperance. He has dealt with far, far worse situations. If Ardyn wants to fuck with and torture him, Ignis is not going to give the time of day for that shit.

He opens his eyes, and surrenders to the sensations. He allows that pleasure that has been halted at the gates to flow forward, move freely through his entire body. Sexual pleasure is simple, and he only needs to enjoy it. He feels his nipples tingling from the obscene finger movements inside of him, and when Ardyn curls them, Ignis bucks. He fucks himself deeper down on those fingers, and he takes what he can get. Fuck Ardyn and his games. Ignis is tired of them.

He pulls his hips off Ardyn’s fingers, and grits his teeth as he shoves his other hand off his thigh. With a quick jab to the man’s ribs, Ignis has him winded enough that he can push Ardyn down onto the bed and straddle his hips. His own dexterous fingers guide that monstrously enormous erection inside of him. The pain tears him apart despite the generous lubrication, but Ignis breathes through the pain. He even relishes it, because it narrows all this thoughts down to a single canal, a singular instinct that is both primal and unthinking that sets him on the path to obtaining what he wants.

When he feels sufficiently stretched enough, Ignis rides Ardyn like he is his only ride out of hell. The pace is brutal and he ignores the way Ardyn fucks into his heat and tattoos his fingerprints into his hips. Ignis closes his eyes, and takes his pleasure, hips snapping furiously as their bare skins slap against each other, squeezing his thighs mercilessly. He feels the warm eruption of come inside of him and proceeds to his own even as his fucking slows down and it is all he could do keep going. He lets go, and with a deep moan, he comes hard on his own belly and Ardyn’s.

And as soon as he is able to, he climbs off and flops onto the furthest spot away from Ardyn possible without falling off the bed. The fatigue and drowsiness he feels indicates that it was probably close to noon, when the sun is high up in the sky. Just as he reaches for his clothes, Ardyn barks out a single word. ‘Don’t.’

Ignis pauses, then his brows knit together. He picks up his abandoned shirt anyway, and is about to pull it on when Ardyn rears up, his quickness belying his size, and pins Ignis to the bed. ‘Leave it,’ he hisses inside Ignis’s ear. ‘I want you naked and ready. When I wake up, I want to fuck you until you scream.’

Ignis’s hands clenches tight over his shirt. He knows this isn’t over, not by a long shot. But the prospect of being touched by this man until the end of his days is unthinkable.

So he refuses to think about it. He is unwilling to let the shirt go, so he merely clutches the hopelessly crumpled shirt in his hands and he closes his eyes.

And he wakes up to Ardyn making good on his promise.

It is the cock shoved deep inside of him that wakes him up first, then the stench of sex that assaults his nose. The cabin smells so sickly sweet of the both of them that it makes him gag. His preternatural senses are sharpened acutely now that night has fallen.

He responds with a pained grunt, and summons the daggers into his waiting hands currently pinned on the bed. He slashes out behind him, blindly, wanting only Ardyn to get the fuck off him, out of him. It is one thing to brace himself against the assault, and it is quite another when he hasn’t readied himself.

Tears spring to his eyes even as the dagger finds its target, lodged deep into Ardyn’s ribs. But even as fresh blood splatters over the both of them, Ardyn has already clamped his mouth down on Ignis’s neck. He is careless and rough, slicing him open unnecessarily, and drinking sloppily and greedily. Ignis’s head is shoved further into the mattress the more he struggles to buck Ardyn off him, until he is pinned down – head, hips, torso - like a butterfly in a glass collection. Stuck fast, with nowhere to go. 

And he knows Ardyn is punishing him by taking more blood than necessary, draining him until he feels like a husk. Weak and hollow, and he can barely fight back. How is Ardyn this strong? Ignis wonders to himself. Ignis is no lightweight himself – he might only be a decade-old vampire, but he has royal blood of pureblood vampires running inside of him and with it, a deep and ancient power. But when he tries to resist Ardyn or fight him off, the imbalance of power is so skewed that it borders on ridiculous.

The shirt that he has in front of him is then converted into a makeshift rope and wound very tightly over his wrists, and he is tied to the bedframe. Ardyn seems to have grown tired of his constant fighting, and with his blood drained he literally does not have the strength to pull out of the bondage.

Ardyn fucks him until he is done, then he gets off, leaving Ignis weak and useless on the bed, barely able to move. This is the moment he feels truly debased, like he is nothing but a body to fuck. He wants to feel nothing, but tears of humiliation leak from his eyes and drip onto the stained sheets. 

He is thankful that Ardyn cannot see his tears because his face is pressed into the mattress. But the strange heat of Ardyn’s deathly cold body pressing against him is gone, and all he can feel is sweat and come cooling on his back.

Behind him, he hears the clink of the crystal glass as Ardyn pours himself a drink. ‘Would you like something to drink, Ignis?’ Ardyn says in such a genial, polite tone that sounds so decent it is almost as if he hadn’t just raped the fuck out of him and forcibly taken almost all his blood.

‘How am I supposed to drink when my hands are bound?’ Ignis snaps, surprising himself that he still has so much fire and fight left inside of him. He supposes he is living up to his name.

It only amuses Ardyn. ‘Oh, my little spitfire.’ Ardyn comes around, kneels next to Ignis’s prone body. He waits until Ignis turns to face him. Ardyn’s large hand captures his chin in a death grip, preventing him from moving away. He drinks from his glass, then forces a mouthful of burning whiskey down his throat. This is not the drink he needs, but he refuses to ask Ardyn for blood. No. He’d rather drive his own dagger into his heart.

The fierce pressure on his lips devolves into a kiss, and Ardyn’s tongue in licking into his unwilling mouth. This is the first time they have kissed, and like all their interactions so far, Ardyn takes what he wants. Ignis bites down so hard that he tastes Ardyn’s blood.

But he is the one who yanks out of the kiss in shock. Ardyn’s blood tastes thick and rich, like a pureblood’s. But there is also an undertone of bitterness mixed into that sweet coppery tang. It is repulsive to him. There is something wrong with Ardyn’s blood.

Ardyn smiles at him, blood dripping out of his mouth and down his chin. His smirk is now dangerous as hell, as are his next words. ‘I’m starting to see how much fun it is going to be breaking you in. And I thought the blond was going to provide more entertainment, but it turns out watching stiff collars go feral is something I didn’t even know I needed.’

The whiskey glass drops to the carpeted ground and bounces off harmlessly, whiskey spilling and seeping into the dark carpet. Ardyn has yanked Ignis up by a handful of his hair, and positioned himself behind Ignis. He has just enough time to brace his now frail body against the prurient assault on his senses.

He tells himself over and over, this does not matter. But that does not stop Ardyn from thrusting particularly hard inside of him, and for him to feel utterly dehumanized. Ardyn wants to use his body to hurt him, to degrade him, to break him. He won’t let it happen. His flesh is nothing, not when he knew this would happen. This is his life now, and he must accept it, or Ardyn will gets what he wants – a broken toy.

Ignis reminds himself that he chose this path out of loyalty and love, and while it is cold comfort to think of it now, it is the only thing that will carry him through. So he closes his eyes, grit his teeth and lets the waves of humiliating pleasure and pain roll through him.

And Ardyn is an utter fucking bastard, because even as he fucks Ignis his tone is pleasantly polite. ‘Have you decided on your alpha yet? Who will have the honor of siring your first vampire brat?’ He asks in a sing-song voice. ‘They’re all good candidates, I assure you. Some hot, some not, and some with limp sausages for dicks.’ Ardyn guffaws to himself even as he rides Ignis hard, each stroke of his massive cock slapping against his prostate sending shockwaves through his entire body. It is hard enough to stop himself from moaning like a whore, let alone pay attention to Ardyn’s words.

But he cannot help the whimper that escapes him as the pleasure builds, and then Ardyn suddenly stops just as Ignis is on the knife’s edge of an orgasm that he hopes will obliterate his mind for a few blessed moments, and better yet, knock his weak, helpless body into unconsciousness where it would be safe.

But such a small mercy is denied him. He is not surprised. He did not get to this point in time by being lucky.

‘Beg me,’ Ardyn whispers in his ear, licking the shell before nibbling on his lobes. ‘Beg me to fuck you so you can come all over yourself like the good little omega slut you are.’

‘Fuck. You.’ Ignis buries his face into the sheets, his body straining for release. His muscles clenched around Ardyn’s sizeable cock, pumping and milking him rather vengefully.

Ardyn’s cold laughter bounces around the cabin. ‘If you haven’t picked out a candidate, I have something in mind to help you.’

‘No thanks.’

Ardyn goes on as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Since we have so many wonderful candidates, there’s only one way to sort the chaff out from the wheat. An interview of sorts? You can size them up for yourself, before you pick one.’

Ignis ignores him, and that throbbing in his ass as Ardyn refuses to move. Then very slowly, he withdraws, leaving a gaping hole where he had once been. Ignis pulls on the frayed thread of his self-control. Having denied his release, Ignis breathes slowly. Above him, Ardyn jerks himself off and warm come splashes onto his back.

He steadfastly ignores the finger that trails around in his come, painting feather-light strokes on his back. Ignis cannot shake the feeling that Ardyn seems to be marking him in his own way.

Ignis closes his eyes, and forces his body to relax. This is not going to be over anytime soon. Not a chance in hell.


	10. Despondency

Upon the airship’s arrival in Gralea, he is promptly taken to a private chamber deep in the bowels of Zegnautus Keep.

Inside the airship cabin, Ardyn has left him on the bed, wrecked and still tied to the bed. He should feel some embarrassment for his own pathetic condition, but Ignis cannot even muster up enough strength. Ardyn has taken most of his blood and he has not bothered to replenish it in any way. Not a single drop of blood – synthetic, human, or vampire.

To their credit, the attendants are brisk and impersonal. They untie his sore, abraded wrists and put him in a perfumed bath in the cabin’s bathrooms, before presenting him with a fresh change of clothes. It takes all of his effort to button up into the sky-blue shirt and pants that he can tell is about a size too big. By the end of the exercise he is on the ground, head resting against the coolness of the tub. He is so blood-deprived that he is light-headed and tired. The attendants have to push his glasses onto his nose for him before practically carrying him to his new home within the Keep.

They place him on the bed, where he lapses in and out of consciousness. It hasn’t been a long time since his last feed, but he is now literally drained of all blood and he does not know how much longer he can hold on. He supposes it’s not an impossibility that Ardyn would leave him that way for the rest of his life, and the thought itself makes him want to summon his daggers and slash it across his jugular. But without blood and strength, the daggers won’t even heed his call.

He spend the whole night drifting like a loose buoy across open waters, and it isn’t until the door to his bedroom opens that he has to focus on the intrusion. His throat seizes up with fear and repulsion at the mere sight of Ardyn. Behind him is a walking suit of armor, tall and sinister. Ignis is unsure who he should fear more – Ardyn, the canny chancellor with that deep darkness running in his blood, or Glauca, the High Commander of the empire, an unknown threat behind that metal helmet.

It’s pathetic how he cannot even move himself into a sitting position. He wants to cry, but that will take too much strength that he currently does not have. He must keep his wits about him, so he merely glares at them as they walk around the bed.

‘What have you done to him?’ Glauca asks, in that flat voice of his.

‘Nothing, nothing!’ Ardyn says playfully. ‘But it was getting quite irritating that he was trying to stab me with every chance he got, so all I did was to drink just enough so that he won’t fight too hard. I know, I know, how despicable of me, right?’ Ardyn smiles at Glauca, then shifts his gaze over to Ignis. ‘Now, my darling. This is candidate number one, as we’ve discussed.’

Glauca stares down at him.

Ignis stares up at him. Then barely flinches when Glauca’s cold metal hand brushes against his cheek. ‘Ignis Scientia.’ That is all he says. Ignis braces himself, but there’s no more. Why did Glauca say his name with such familiarity? Fondness, even? But it is the excitement in his voice that scares him the most.

His mind flashes back to Ardyn’s words. What had he meant by ‘interview’?

Fuck, Ignis wants to weep and rail against this fate even as his heart thuds in fear. He wants the daggers to materialize in his hands so he can stab these abhorrent vampires in the heart and summon their sacred fire magic so he could incinerate what is left of their bodies.

Instead, he juts his chin. He is not the only one with fire in his soul. It is in his name, it is inside of him. The fire will burn away whatever filthiness they can choose to imprint onto him, and it does not matter.

Glauca continues stroking his cheek. ‘You’ve always been beautiful, Ignis. But I’ve never seen you undone like this. Pale, weak. Helpless.’

Ardyn laughs heartily. ‘I told you about Glauca, didn’t I? Although it sounds that he knows you much better than I do.’ He says in the manner of someone making an inside joke. What is it that Ignis doesn’t know that he does? He’s not inclined to share yet.

Ignis settles for glaring at them both.

Ardyn bows in mockery to Glauca. ‘Whenever you’re ready, good sir.’

Glauca takes a deep breath. ‘Your scent. It’s so powerful.’

Ardyn gestures to Ignis with a flourish. ‘Go on, take a closer look. Feel that scent wrapped around yourself.’

‘No,’ Ignis says before he can stop himself. ‘You said I have a choice.’

‘You do, you do, of course!’ Ardyn says. ‘But how would you know unless you sample the goods? Let’s just call it a taste test.’

He summons the rest of his body and compels it to rise beyond his own weaknesses, only for it to betray him at a critical juncture. He barely moves a limb at this point. It’s even too much effort to muster a weak protest.

So he basically lies there on his back, like a lifeless puppet to be manipulated. He wishes he was on his stomach, but he is becoming increasingly weak. Turning over is too much to ask of his body. His powerful vampiric strength have fled him, perhaps knowing for sure now how weak he really is. His own cries die in his throat, as Glauca rearranges his limbs so he might have better access. Those foreign fingers unbutton his shirt perfunctorily, before removing the rest of his clothes.

He does not know which is more humiliating – a man in a metal helmet shedding his armor only to fuck into his unresponsive body, or the man sitting in the corner of the room, watching and delighting in his voyeurism. He needs blood, and the thirst in his throat is weeping pathetically.

When it is over, he simply closes his eyes. It is so close to sunrise now. The natural fatigue induced by the coming of the dawn renders him senseless, and the lack of blood inside of him makes it infinitely worse. He feels no pain whatsoever, or anything else for that matter.

Glauca dresses himself. And the sight of him pulling on his clothes before donning his armor again must be ridiculous, but Ignis is not laughing.

‘He is … suitable.’

‘Glauca, you are positively the strangest man I’ve come across,’ Ardyn says, nursing a drink in his hand. ‘You won’t even take off your helmet to fuck him? Come on, man. He’s going to find out who you are sooner or later, you know. He’s not _stupid_.’

Glauca seems to watch Ignis assessingly, even as he is struggling to process through his sluggish brain what it is that Ardyn seems to be implying and has been hinting obtusely the entire time.

Does he know Glauca? And who is it? His chest fills with dread.

Glauca takes off his helmet.

Ignis flexes his hand – there is no magic left inside of him, save a tiny spark. He seizes upon it and drags himself off the bed and launches himself at Titus Drautos, captain of the Kingsglaive.

His sense of honor and loyalty are brutally offended by this grievous act of betrayal, and the worst part is he cannot even warn the king. Or Noctis. His heart clenches with fear as his dagger glances violently off the armor and clatters harmlessly onto the ground. His does not have the dexterity nor coordination to pull off a decent stab, he thinks to himself with despair. But he has to kill Drautos, he must.

And instead Drautos subdues him easily by punching him in the gut, driving him down to the ground, his cheek pressed against the carpet. Drautos’s knee is firm against his back, keeping him there, even though he does not need to – Ignis has used up the last of his strength, foolish as it was.

This time he does not stop the tears of rage that spill down his cheeks. He howls his outrage, not even feeling the pain as the knee digs into his back and there is a pressure in his chest and he can barely breathe.

When he finally runs out of steam he sees Ardyn crouch in front of him and all he can see is glee on that hateful, hateful face as Ardyn yanks his head back by his hair. ‘You have a fire in you, little omega. You will be such a good addition to our coven. I want to see you passed around by all the hungry vampires we have. I want you to scream every single time they fuck you, and I want to see all the fury burning inside of you.’

This time it is Ardyn who pushes his way inside of him, and the last spark of his consciousness blinks out with the rising of the sun. He feels himself floating away, falling into a deep sleep, an empty void where the devil and the traitor cannot touch him. He wishes he could die, but it is not so easy for a vampire to die.

He wakes up in the dark room.

He is still on the carpet, skin bare and cold. Even as he shifts, he feels thick fluid flowing out of him, spilling down his thighs. He has been out for a day and a little. The thirst in his throat is so bad, and all he wants is a feed. Are they intending to starve him? Is that what they want to do to an omega capable of bearing their children?

The sweet darkness has restored some of his latent vampiric energy, despite the burning lack of blood in his body. But it is enough for him to roll slowly to his knees as he fights off the grogginess. It takes him a pathetically long time to pull himself up on the bed. He wants a bath to wash off the smells that have attached themselves to his skin like a sickness – wood smoke and aniseed, but accepts that it is almost impossible to do so without outside help.

He slides into bed, his limbs shaking uncontrollably. He has to fight off his bloodlust, but his head hurts too much.

He hears the door open, and cries out before he can stop it. His tormentor stands there, with an equally tall man beside him, dressed in a white coat with purple trim, symbols of swords littered all over his coat. His hair is such a shade of light silver it is practically shining in the darkened room.

Ignis feels the desperate urge to vomit. Here he is, the come not even dry inside of him, whatever left of his strength barely recovered with the dead sleep that he had just woken up from.

The men walk into the room. The one in white has his arms crossed over his chest, the expression on his face forbidding and solemn. He is not liking what he sees, clearly. Ignis just wants it done and over with so he can curl up in bed and sleep some more.

He stands at the corner of the room, refusing to walk forward even though Ardyn does. Ardyn approaches Ignis in bed, and presses a mocking kiss on the top of his head.

‘What have you done with him?’ the man in white asks in a high, cold tone. ‘If you destroy his body he won’t be able to bear children. Is that not why you brought him back here in the first place?’

‘Oh, relax. He’s a feisty one, you see. If we don’t keep him down, he’ll find the closest stabby thing to impale you with. You know what they say about the quiet ones. They’re always the ones you have to watch out for. Anyways, speaking of, don’t you smell that delightful scent in the air?’

‘What is it?’ the man asks, almost irritably. He is trying not to sniff in the air and failing. ‘That’s so …’

‘Overpowering?’ Ardyn finishes the sentence for him. ‘Quite right.’ He noses over the pale skin of Ignis’s neck. ‘Ah, if not for the fact I don’t want to sire any children I would have bonded with him already. Now, here’s the deal: Glauca’s already had a … look at him and he deems the omega to be quite suitable. But I’m a fair man, and I believe in equal opportunities. You should … assess him and see if he meets your needs.’

‘No,’ the man’s answer is swift and scathing. ‘I don’t need Glauca’s cast offs. Or yours. I have no interest whatsoever.’

‘No interest?’ Ardyn pretends to look offended. ‘Oh, you silly twit. You have no interest in an omega who can possibly help you continue the Nox Fleuret line?’

Nox Fleuret. This is Ravus, then. Firstborn of Tenebraen royals, brother to the Oracle. Ignis has never met him, but he’s heard enough of Ravus to know he has exchanged his freedom for the empire’s protection.

‘Not like this,’ Ravus looks down at him, his stern expression unfathomable. He grinds out an irritated retort. ‘How long were you planning to leave him like this, _chancellor_?’ It is clear from his tone of voice that there is no love lost between them.

Ardyn considers Ravus’s response, and Ignis sees a look cross his face. He knows that that look bears no good will, and Ignis shudders to think what Ardyn wants to do now.

‘Your strong sense of justice has moved me to tears,’ Ardyn begins. ‘And seeing as to how you think that the omega needs blood, why don’t you go ahead and provide him with a bit of yours?’

Ravus’s face is full of doubt even as he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket up to the elbow. He waits it out, and Ardyn eventually relents. Ravus must be used to dealing with him. ‘All right, you win, Prince Ravus. The only way I’ll let you give him your blood if you have a taste of him as well. I want to see if he suits you or Glauca better before he decides on his pick of alpha. After all, I doubt Commodore Highwind is interested, and the emperor can barely get it up.’

Ravus steps back immediately. ‘No,’ he answers coldly, and retracts his wrist when it is so close to Ignis’s mouth. ‘I’m not playing your games, chancellor.’

But Ignis’s hand shoots out, grips him by the wrist. Ravus looks down at him, and Ignis locks his gaze. Pride is not part of the equation. Survival is, at all costs. All that time lying prone in a quiet room had him reshuffling his priorities. And at the top of his list is a dangerous man, whose close proximity to the Lucian Crown makes him a threat that Ignis must destroy immediately. He has no way of warning Noctis, so he must act soon.

And to that objective, he must survive. ‘Please,’ he pleads to Ravus.

Ravus crouches down to meet Ignis at eye level, and he whispers so quietly that only Ignis can hear. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ he says.

Ignis’s body has been invaded too many times against his will now, and it no longer matters. ‘I don’t care. I need … I need blood.’

‘I can get you blood a different way,’ Ravus offers. ‘We … don’t have to do this. You don’t have to put up with this indignity.’

‘It’s not an indignity if I want it,’ Ignis says, and tugs the man’s wrist to him. He forces back the tears that prickles his eyes. ‘Please.’ He puts everything he has behind that plea.

Ravus seems to understand. He gently presses his wrist to Ignis’s mouth.

He doesn’t even hesitate. Ignis tears into the tender flesh at the pale wrist and drinks, and drinks. He loses all control because he knows that Ravus will stop him if he takes too much, but his body is craving blood so badly.

But with that fresh, warm blood rushing into his body, his dulled mental faculties and that despised physical weakness are strengthening with each drop of blood that nourishes him. Ravus is a pureblood vampire, and his blood, although tasted different to Noctis’s and Gladiolus’s, is no less potent. He gorges himself until he could feel a plumpness, a vitality return to himself. And his drinking slows.

Ignis forces himself to break off, blinking away that haze of fatigue that had enveloped him since Ardyn took his blood. He heard the clink of belts and buckles as Ravus undressed himself. With an irritated little snap, Ravus asks, ‘Are you going to sit there and watch?’

‘Why, thank you for the invitation,’ Ardyn answers, and Ravus growls low in his throat.

Ignis steels himself, and turns to Ravus. Despite his reluctance, somehow, this indignity, as Ravus called it, seems like a kindness. He embraces Ravus muscled, lanky frame, and closes his eyes, ignoring the way Ardyn’s gaze skitter up and down his body. This is nothing.


	11. Agony

Ignis only realizes that his heat is well and truly on the way when he discovers that his new body is starting to do some incredibly fucked-up things. Firstly, he discovers this incredible need to nest, but based on the available furniture around him, he can only gather all the blankets and linens he can find and piles them on the bed. Secondly, he can’t stop leaking and every part of his body is burning up with an intense fever.

Intellectually, he knows that his heat is going to be long and painful, as it is his body’s way of attracting an alpha to bond and mate with. Bonded omega vampires have much shorter heats, and one that comes once six months of the year. He does not know what his own body will do now that it is constantly under siege, in pain and fear. He does not know what he will do when the worst of the heat hits and he has nothing to soothe away the need and ache, but he supposes that he will have to soldier on. After all, he does not have a choice.

But what he does know is he does not want anyone helping him through this heat. He will undertake it alone. He is already vulnerable thanks to the circumstances, but the thought of having anyone near him during this time of need makes him nauseous. So one night after being fucked into oblivion by both Ardyn and Drautos, he drags himself to the shower and scrubs their scent off his skin until it feels raw and tender. He knows that his heat will arrive soon, because of the intense tingling and pressure deep in his belly.

He begins to pull all the furniture in the room to barricade the door. He doesn’t care how foolish or possibly futile it is, but he hopes that by making it harder for them to enter, they might leave him alone because he isn’t worth the fuss. He patiently stacks furniture in front of the door. The bedside tables go first, before the armchairs, then the dressing table. The dinner table, then chairs are stacked tightly up against it. When he is done, the only furniture that is not pushed against the door is the bed.

Then he sinks into the deep warmth of the bed, under all the sheets and blankets when his body roars to life.

The heat hits hard and fast, and is by far the most unpleasant thing he has ever encountered in his life. There is a deep, persistent itch under his skin, and everything is on fire, and he is leaking slick everywhere. His own scent is overpowering, and drives even himself crazy. There is a bottomless ache inside him, radiating from his nether regions as they pulsated to some kind of primal keening of need. And the longer it goes unfulfilled, the more painful it becomes.

He dissolves into a pathetic bundle under the sheets, soaked in his own sweat, slick and tears. He disgusts even himself, and passes out blissfully for a few hours that first night before awakening to an intense pain.

By the second night he has resorted to gnawing at his own wrist. The burn is two-fold, one for a cock inside of him to fuck and knot him, and secondly for the rich blood of an alpha to flood through his mouth and soothe away the deepest of the aches. But none of that is an option right now, and his body punishes him for it.

He doesn’t understand how he will do more than a day of this. Even the thought of one more hour is too much for him. In the recesses of his sane mind, he knows he has read that heats can last up to ten days. He can’t do ten days of this. He will die.

But minutes run into each other, and soon the concept of time is altogether beyond him. The agony has obviated everything that matters, and his body is an instrument bowing under wave after wave of pain. He will beg for anything now, he thinks. He will abase himself if he can get it to stop.

This is why he barricaded the room. So no one can get to him, and to ensure that he himself will not break and beg in shame at the height of his own weakness.

He wakes up to a weight on the bed.

Ardyn sits there, golden eyes staring down at him. Distinctly unamused.

His body tells him to surrender. Ardyn is an alpha, he can give Ignis what he craves most and stop this pain.

But the voice that emerges is not quite his. ‘Get out of my room,’ Ignis whispers in a harsh growl. He can’t even process how Ardyn got into his room, and does not dwell on it for long. His brain does not permit him to, anyway.

No, what is he saying? He needs Ardyn. He needs Ardyn’s cock. He will do anything to get it inside of him. He is dying.

‘Don’t be stubborn,’ Ardyn is saying, and he drops a handful of unopened boxes onto the bed. ‘These are tools to help you through your heat, if you don’t want an actual person to help you. They will ease the worst of the aches.’

Ignis summons a single dagger and drives it into Ardyn’s shoulder. The man doesn’t even react. He merely pulls out the dagger and tosses it to the ground. ‘Leave me alone,’ Ignis croaks.

Ardyn looks down at him. Ignis does not know if his feverish imagination is getting to him, but he sees concern in Ardyn’s eyes. Concern, and disbelief. ‘You are aware that it’s perfectly possible for an omega to die of an unsatiated heat? I won’t let your stubbornness kill you. I’m not quite done with you yet.’

Ignis picks up the boxes of dildos and heaves them across the room, where they smash into the barricade of furniture and fall with a loud clatter to the ground. ‘I don’t need your help,’ Ignis grits out. ‘Get out.’ He summons another dagger, and this time, plunges it into Ardyn’s thigh.

The smell of Ardyn’s blood dripping onto the already stained, damp sheets is making things worse for Ignis. The titillating coppery smell of fresh blood is like a taunt to his senses right now. He wants to weep, and die. Death is not so bad if this is what living is, he figures.

He dismisses the dagger, and reforms it in his hand. He levels the point straight at his own chest, and is about to push it into his heart when he finds he is only gripping air. He opens his eyes, hearing only the despairing cry that has been wrenched out of his throat.

He does not know if Ardyn has somehow blocked his magic, and his access to the Armiger. Or even worse, what if it is Noctis who has done it. Has he finally come to accept that Ignis will no longer return to him, and their half-completed bond will remain that for eternity? Has he rescinded Ignis’s access to his Armiger, because this is the end of the road for them?

Somehow that thought kills him from inside, and suddenly he feels like glass that has been smashed against concrete floor; just slightly past the act of breaking, in the process of shattering into millions of pieces, each fracture widening into a gaping chasm as pieces separate from each other. Whatever that was inside of him has been torn apart, and there is no going back.

He does not even fight when Ardyn wrestles him onto his back, yanks his thighs apart and plunges into his heat. The blessed relief that churns through him like a cool deluge is nothing compared to the agony that is tearing him apart from the knowledge that his pack has now officially abandoned him. Every delusion or dream that he’s had in the past few days that he is somehow able to make his way back to them have been crushed.

Ignis should have known. This is one of the consequences he had expected since he made the decision to renounce his pack. To protect them, was his reasoning. But the real reason was that he had always felt left out.

Gladiolus and Noctis had grown up together, best friends. The long line of Amicitias were sworn Shields to the line of the Lucis, and their fates had been inexplicably bound together as surely as they were pureblood vampires. Ignis himself had been a human companion for Noctis, after Regis had found him, picked him up like he was a pet to be kept. And why wouldn’t he? He had lost his parents in an accident, and Regis had took pity on him and brought him home to the coven. Ignis was then bound to servitude to Noctis, like Gladiolus was, except without the deep abiding love. That had developed much later.

But when Prompto came along … Prompto wasn’t like Gladiolus or Ignis. He didn’t owe Noctis a single thing, and yet he had chosen to stay. Out of loyalty, out of affection, out of love. It was the same things Ignis held inside himself, and yet Prompto had a choice, yet he hadn’t. And for that voluntary willingness to stay, it had sealed Noctis’s and Prompto’s fates together.

Their love for each other had come later. But that had been the beginning, and that had been the root of his insecurities. It was no wonder he had made that decision to leave. Not only because he wanted to protect Noctis, but perhaps deep down inside he knew he had no place with them anyway. What else could explain the strange twist of fate that made him manifest as an omega rather than the alpha that everyone thought he would be?

And yet he was nowhere near prepared for this existence. But he accepts it now, like he accepts his omega status. This is his reality, and this is the truth. No amount of delusion will change a thing.

He wakes again in the deep of the night. His senses are humming, his need to hunt and his insides _hurt._ Everything is throbbing madly with a strange kind of pain, and his belly and ass and thighs are burning with electricity that jolts up and down them. He finds Ardyn wrapped around him, on top of him. His solid weight pinning him down like an anchor, and he feels so full he is close to bursting.

He screams.

Ardyn reacts quickly, his eyes flashing. He snarls and bites down on Ignis’s neck, against his jugular, and the venom quickly flows. It sedates him enough to cut off his screaming like a switch. One moment the overly warm room that smells of sex and slick is echoing with his shrieks, and next moment it is silent as a tomb.

Heaving quietly in his death grip, Ignis releases his arms, where they have been digging into Ardyn’s pale flesh in a desperate bid to get him off his body. An age-old instinct rears in him, as deep as the hunger of his heat, shorting out the reason in his brain. He turns his head, and sinks his incisors into Ardyn’s neck, the fleshy juncture between his wiry neck and muscled shoulder. And he drinks.

This time it is Ardyn who is trying to rip him off his body. Ignis drinks, and drinks, and drinks. There is a deep darkness here, one that his body instinctively rejects. But he forces himself to drink, and for that bond between them to seal themselves shut.

The light of a thousand burning suns strobe through his body and he is burning, he is on fire. He releases Ardyn’s neck only to scream his agony into a black void, and distantly he hears Ardyn bellowing in pain. The creation of a soul bond is excruciating, and all he feels is the nerve endings in his entire body alight in the flames of a new, nearly unbreakable promise.

Ardyn is like a wounded animal, and flings him off the bed and across the room. Ignis feels himself flying briefly before landing in a heap, curled on the ground. His entire body is tingling with pain, but even as he breathes, it is passing. Is this the pain that the completion of a soul bond brings about? If so, it is a terrible sacrifice.

He feels a vague sadness that he will never be able to complete his bonds with the men he loves – the effervescent freckled gunner, the strong and sensitive Shield. His own prince, who is easy and sweet, lazy as he is loving. But that halcyon time is over now, and it is time to focus on what he has done.

Ardyn seems to have regained his senses as well, and is able to walk up to Ignis. Ignis can see the muscled calf standing in front of him, pale, strong, almost marble-like in its perfection. Ignis braces himself for a swift, brutal kick to his ribs, but it does not come.

And Ignis realizes that his plan is working. Ardyn is now bound to him, alpha to omega via a nigh-unbreakable soul bond. An alpha’s instinct is to protect what is his. Ardyn might have no qualms doing so when there was no bond between them, but now he will constantly feel compelled to keep him from harm. He is forcing his tormentor to now safeguard him, and he hopes that there will be a value in it, no matter how despicable the arrangement is.

And yes, he knows that Ardyn can fight it, and he most likely will. But Ignis doesn’t care. He has bought himself some modicum of protection for as long as it will hold. He wants to keep Glauca’s hands off him. Ardyn is bad enough, but Ardyn never pretended to be a Lucian.

He thinks of all those times Glauca, no, Drautos, has looked at him and spoken to him about council matters, the times that they have sparred together in practice sessions. How many times had Ignis looked away and pretend he did not see the desire in those piercing eyes, and how he had to ignore Drautos when he walked past, brushing a finger down the side of his neck when no one else was looking.

Ardyn might be pure villainy, but Drautos was a whole other thing – he was treasonous, and he still posed a threat to the Crown. He was the antithesis of Ignis, who considered himself the paragon of loyalty. But perhaps not any more. Perhaps now they were one and the same. Even so, he despised it when Drautos touched him.

And he knows he has to become stronger if he wants to take out Glauca. If that means he must align himself with the likes of Ardyn, then so be it. He has already fallen far from grace, and the deep bottomless pit yawns at him.

He will fall, if that means he can protect Noctis, and all that he loves.

Ardyn twists Ignis’s arm and drags him back to the bed. It is rough handling, but Ignis knows that Ardyn is terribly furious. He does not have to look at his face to come to the conclusion. It in the rigidity of the way he holds himself, those burning flames in the roughened touches that tell him all he needs to know.

Ignis is exhausted, temporarily sated from the knot that Ardyn has given him, but he knows that the heat must still play out until the bitter end. The worst of it is over now that he is bonded with an alpha. It is a small relief to know that his heats will never be that bad ever again. The thought of the endless pain and ache assaulting him again drive him to insanity.

Ardyn yanks his hair back so hard that he feels that the roots of his hair will part ways with his scalp, and then fucks into him with a punishing savagery. Ignis can’t even find purchase on the bedsheet with his clawed fingers as his hips are hoisted up again and again.

‘You sly little trickster,’ Ardyn is saying, rage coating his every single word. ‘I’m going to break you into pieces. No one ever had the balls to bond with me.’

Ignis lifts his head. ‘No one wanted to bond with you,’ he snarls, shocked that he still has some fight left inside of him to be petty.

Ardyn slams his head down against the mattress. ‘You think you will be able to handle a bond with me, you dirty little omega, but you can’t. You have just sealed your own fate, because your body can’t take what I have inside of me.’

Ignis wanted to tell him death was a much preferable reality than this.

Laughter bubbles up inside of Ardyn’s chest – like poison bubbling to the surface. His laughter is not of mirth, but bitter disbelief. ‘I know what you’re up to. And if you think I’ll let you play me, you should think about it again.’

The proof of the completed bond is glaring starkly at the both of them, and Ignis knows Ardyn must see it, because his rage is incandescent as he contends with the reality that he has been outmaneuvered. He fucks Ignis into submission, and comes with an angry snarl. He pulls out, and disappears, leaving Ignis alone in his room. The bond inside of him is calling for his alpha to return, and he knows that it is working the same magic inside of Ardyn as well.

Ardyn does not like the tables flipping on him, but Ignis is sick and tired of having these vampires dictate his biology. The return of some semblance of control over his situation settles him somewhat, and the worst of the heat is passing. His mind is gradually returning to him, and he limps into the shower. He is covered is all sorts of fluid, and it feels tacky on his sensitive skin. He showers in water so hot that it is practically scalding, but emerges from the shower feeling a little like himself again.

Ignis pulls the dirty bedsheet onto the ground, and climbs in under the blankets, enjoying the way the cool linen feels against his heated skin. Then he dives into sleep again, this time, feeling a little safer, which is ironic considering the situation he has found himself in. But he knows he has unsettled Ardyn, and right now, no one else can touch him.

That is good enough for now.


	12. Deal

His decision pays off almost immediately.

Ardyn leaves him alone for the most part, as if he has retreated to his lair to lick away at his own wounds. Ignis’s heat seems to have flattened, having been tamed by the bond that had been forged and the countless times he has been knotted. The furniture barricade is holding, and neither Glauca nor Ravus can enter his room.

Ardyn can, using some sort of complicated magical villainy, but Ignis has long established that he has bonded himself to a supervillain of sorts, one that has been set loose on Eos to create chaos. There is a deep and ancient magic inside of him, as well as a festering darkness. Ignis may not know what his plans are, but he knows enough to understand that Ardyn is not here to make his life easier.

When he has enough energy to do so, he strips the bed of all the soiled sheets. Then patiently, begins to move the corresponding furniture back into place. This is the first time in so many days that he is able to open up his valise and put on his favourite button-up and pants.

As he tucks the tails of the shirt into his pants, he feels almost … like himself again. Like he is getting ready for work and he knows Prompto is out there with a mug of freshly brewed coffee and Gladiolus will kiss him on the lips as he leaves for work and he will see Noctis at the council meeting.

The attendants discreetly remove the soiled sheets and clean his room, neatly fitting clean sheets on his bed. Ignis sits politely at his armchair by the windowsill, nursing a glass of whiskey as he absently watches them flit back and forth.

Then he is left alone again, in the cool silence and unfamiliar quiet. Back in his old coven, he was constantly surrounded by people. It is such a strange change to have nothing to do, but he supposes this is a small consolation compared to these strangers walking into his room and claiming his body for their own.

He flexes his fingers, and finds with no surprise that he still cannot conjure up his beloved daggers or lances. His access to Noctis’s Armiger seems to have been revoked permanently. He will need to come up with an alternative solution if he wants to take out Glauca on his own terms.

He takes another sip of the amber liquid, and continues staring out the window. He ignores Ardyn’s presence in his room, the way he has draped himself against the doorway of his open door. He can still feel Ardyn’s anger, now simmering on a low boil instead of the unhinged fury that he had unleashed upon him in the last throes of his heat.

He refuses to look even as Ardyn sweeps into the room in his usual thrift-store garb, the way he leans over and presses his nose against Ignis’s neck. Ignis merely arches his neck to give him access. After all, this man is his mate now.

‘I’m surprised to see you even alive, darling, after your ridiculous self-imposed torture of abstinence through your heat. Why, I was half-convinced you would actually die!’

‘Is that why you chose to bond with me, then? To save my life?’ Ignis asks, feeling a humorless little smile lift the corner of his lips as he twisted the knife. Ardyn tightened his arm around Ignis’s waist – a clear warning, if there ever was one.

‘Why else would I have done it?’ Ardyn says lightly, although they both know that this is a lie and a joke rolled up into one.

‘How long did my heat last for?’ Ignis had lost all track of time during his mind-wrecking heat.

‘Mmm. Nine days.’

‘Nine … days?’ Ignis says, stunned. He had clocked out at about day three.

‘Yes. You lasted about eight days without a cock inside of you. Rather admirable, I must say. I’ve never seen willpower such as yours. I suppose your stoicism should be lauded, although I personally think it is foolish of you to do so when there are so many willing alphas around you.’

‘Mmm,’ Ignis demurred. ‘And unless you want a child from me, I would suggest you provide me with some fertility suppressant pills.’

‘There’s no need for that,’ Ardyn purred. ‘I’m infertile, you see. I have been for a very long time now. Part of the reason why there is no reason for me to bond or breed.’ Ardyn winds his finger around a lock of Ignis’s hair, and tugs it hard. Ardyn is having a difficult time restraining his residual anger.

Ignis doesn’t wince. He merely sips the last of his whiskey. Ardyn’s infertility is welcome news. The last thing he wants to do is carry anyone’s brat. Not here. Not now. Not when he doesn’t even have the capacity to protect himself, let alone a child.

‘However, I must say. My two candidates are still very eager to have you again. Well, maybe not one of them. He’s probably too in love with his sister to give you the time of day.’

Ignis’s hand tightened over his glass. He needs for Glauca to come to him again. But he has no weapons on him.

Ardyn runs his finger up and down Ignis’s forearm. ‘Mmm. Does that thought make you angry, darling? I know the metal man is not the best of lovers, but all you have to do is spread your legs and he’ll do the rest. He’s a very industrious individual, as you know, always rushing back and forth from Niflheim to Lucis. You know, he even has a specific airship for him to travel back and forth. He calls it _Fidelity_. An apt name, don’t you think?’

Ignis clenches his jaw. The irony is brutal. He forces himself to speak. ‘Of course. I would love to welcome a traitor in my bed.’

Ardyn plants his ass on the windowsill, and he watches Ignis carefully. Then he laughs. ‘I can see it inside of you, you know, omega. You think you hide it well, but I am well-versed in reading the darkness inside of humans and vampires for too long now. You are scheming, aren’t you? You want to kill Drautos.’

He does not even deny it. ‘Yes. As soon as I get my hands on a weapon.’

Ardyn mocks him relentlessly even as he leans forward to touch Ignis. ‘Why, can’t you just pull a knife out from that lovely little Armiger of your dear prince?’ He clearly knows that Ignis no longer has access. Ignis lets him have his fun. ‘Just grab a spear from that magical cabinet, why don’t you?’

Ignis puts down his empty glass with a soft clink, and breathes quietly as Ardyn’s fingers are unbuttoning his shirt, before he slips his cold hand down his chest. ‘Allow me to make you a proposal, then,’ Ardyn purrs slyly.

As if he has any choice to not listen, Ignis thinks to himself. Ardyn’s fingers brushes against the sensitive flesh of the nub of his nipple, and pinches hard.

‘I will provide you with a weapon,’ Ardyn says. ‘And if you can wield it, you can kill him. In fact, I’ll even do you a favor and tell you the right way to kill Glauca.’

‘A blade to the heart,’ Ignis answers automatically.

‘Ah, not quite, no. I understand that the vampires of the Coven of the Sword King die this way. But not for the ones from the Coven of Ifrit. You can only kill a vampire blessed by the Infernian with a blade through the heart, but the blade must be imbued with Ifrit’s own fire magic beforehand. It’s simple, but elegant, don’t you think?’ He twists Ignis’s nipple so hard that a gasp of pain escapes him.

‘How do I … gain your magic?’

‘Very simply. I’ll teach you,’ Ardyn answers.

‘You will allow me to kill Glauca?’ Ignis arches into Ardyn’s touch, his inner omega screaming from the sensation. Ignis tamps down on it firmly.

‘Why not?’ Ardyn says. ‘He’s been a pain in my ass for too long now. And really, all that travelling to and fro is really getting on my nerves. Airship fuel isn’t cheap nowadays, you know,’ he complains mildly. ‘It’s terrible for the environment.’

Ardyn is a certified psychopath, Ignis thinks to himself. The way he can talk about murder and saving airship fuel in the same breath borders on terrifying. But if Ardyn is getting onboard him killing Glauca, he can’t complain. If he wants to pull this off, he needs Ardyn’s help. After all, the enemy of his enemy … is a temporary ally.

Ignis watches Ardyn watch him. ‘Very well.’ He cannot shake the feeling that he has made a deal with the devil.

‘And your weapon of choice?’

Something swift, and something easily hidden. Small and light to the touch. ‘A dagger.’

‘An excellent choice.’ And with a flash of red, an ornate dagger appears in Ardyn’s hand.

Ignis flinches. The flash is so familiar to him. Except that Noctis’s Armiger is blue, not red. But the mechanism is the same. He knows from history only the line of Lucis has this power, which means that out of their entire coven, only King Regis and Prince Noctis have this unique magic which they have bestowed upon only on their nearest and dearest.

And Ardyn has it too. What does this mean? Who is this man?

Ardyn sees his shock. ‘What, did you think your darling prince and his daddy are the only ones who have an Armiger?’

‘I thought only the Lucis Caelums have this power,’ Ignis begins. An irritated expression appears on Ardyn’s face.

‘What makes you think I’m not one of them?’ Somehow, it does not sound like a lie, as much as Ignis wishes it is one. There is far too much bitterness in his voice that Ignis cannot dismiss it as an offhand lie.

Ignis wants the truth. ‘How so?’ He thinks back on the blood that he has taken from Ardyn, the smooth hardness of his body, the deep fount of ancient power inside of him – hallmarks of a very old vampire. But how old, exactly? And how far back was he in the bloodline?

Perhaps even as old as the founder king himself? He was sure Ardyn was not the founder king – that honor belonged to Somnus, thousands of years ago, since the dawn of human history. But the beginnings of vampire lore was notoriously ambiguous. When it comes to their own creation, details were hazy, and information indefinite. Ignis is learned enough to know when things that like happen in written history, there is usually something amiss, something that has been covered up.

He puts two and two together. Ardyn is not a familiar name in the line of kings. And for his loyalty to align with Niflheim’s instead of Lucis, something must have gone very wrong. ‘You’re trying to incite a war because you’re a scorned man who never became king?’ Ignis asks, and he finds that he enjoys twisting the knife into Ardyn. This is the man whose fate is now bound to his, but that does not mean he has any positive feelings for him.

Ardyn only smirks. ‘You are an incredibly clever man. Such a pity that you had to be removed from your role on the Lucian council. They would have benefited greatly from your keen intellect.’

Ignis glares at him. ‘No thanks to your part in this farce,’ Ignis says, and understands Ardyn is not the only one who can twist the knife.

‘Ah well,’ Ardyn smiles. ‘I suppose you must thank me from rescuing you from that horrid drudgery. Instead you’re here, bordering on the brink of sweet debauchery, as surely as your scent will paint this entire room.’ Ardyn bends his head down to nose at the juncture of Ignis’s slacks. ‘I must say, your scent is rather addicting.’

His finger deftly unzips Ignis’s fly, unbuttoning his slacks. The inside of Ignis’s plain black underwear is drenched with his own slick. With Ardyn this close, he can smell his alpha’s arousal. Ardyn dismisses the dagger in his hand, and chortles at the disappointment in Ignis’s eyes. ‘You don’t think I’m going to give it to you so easily. Now, now, that’s just silly. You’ll have to work for it.’

Ignis keeps his gaze burning into Ardyn’s even as Ardyn rolls his underwear and pants down his hips and shoves two fingers callously inside of him, coating his fingers in Ignis’s slick. ‘Before you can think of conjuring fire magic, first you must learn the basics. You will find that I am a very caring, gentle taskmaster. Now for lesson number one. Pull from my Armiger.’

Ardyn must have seen the repugnance on his face. ‘You are my omega. Did you think you wouldn’t be granted access to my Armiger? We are tied in many ways now, not just the soul bond.’ Ardyn is practically purring as he throws this fact in Ignis’s face.

His two fingers are still twisting and curling inside of Ignis, and he begins to feel his own arousal churn through him. He closes his eyes, leans into the sensation even as he works to imagine that dagger that Ardyn has shown him. It is the same way he calls for his daggers from Noctis’s Armiger. He usually visualizes, and it appears.

He flexes his right hand, calling the dagger to present into his hands even as Ardyn kneels between his thighs, spreading his legs apart so he can use his tongue and mouth. Part of Ignis revolts against this very act of intimacy. The last few days – weeks? – he has been a mere object in which others take pleasure from, and there was no such intimacy where he was exclusively given pleasure. This feels more like a violation than the previous rapes, and it unsettles him. But he will not show it. Instead, he relaxes the thighs that are being held in Ardyn’s hands and focuses on calling the dagger.

Ardyn is practically slurping him up by now, and the obscenity of his actions is knocking Ignis’s concentration. His tongue is sinful enough to drive Ignis to distraction, and he fists his hands and slams his eyes closed in frustration. By the time Ardyn wrangles him onto the ground onto his belly, Ignis’s sweat is mingling with his slick.

Ardyn sinks inside of him, all the way to his hilt. Ignis’s body sighs with deep pleasure as his alpha’s body covers him completely, but deep inside there is a fire still to be quenched. He keeps pulling, and pulling, but nothing comes to his hand.

‘No luck so far, darling?’ Ardyn’s endearments piss him off. Ignis ignores it, and Ardyn thrusts deeply inside of him. ‘Let me help you with an incentive.’ Ardyn slams his hand down over Ignis’s left hand, and a dagger is embedded into his flesh, deep into the carpeted floor.

The pain is immense, but the frustration even greater. Ignis grits his teeth and ignores the pain receptors that slap at him. He visualizes the dagger, and tries to eject it from his flesh and into his hand. Nothing happens, and his only reward for his endeavors is more pain. Ardyn has summoned another dagger into his right hand, and now he is pinned down. Even as Ardyn pushes in and out of him, the daggers are tearing into his flesh, sending sharp waves of agony every time he moves.

He compartmentalizes the pain, because his knows his vampiric body will heal. Pain is nothing. He wipes his mind of any other thoughts, including the pleasure that his shameless lower body is now enjoying, and hones in on a single thought.

The dagger is ripped out of his right hand and emerges underneath his palm, warm and to the touch, solid as the steel of the blade. He pants with exertion, but deep inside he brims with a pride that his hard work has paid off.

‘Very good,’ Ardyn whispers sultrily into the shell of his ear, before biting down. Ignis curls his hand around the dagger he already has, and works to pull it from his other hand. The first time is always the hardest, and the second time comes a little easier.

He has both in hand, and is about to rear up on his knees to buck Ardyn off him so he can pivot around and stab the sadistic bastard in the face when they both disappear and Ardyn has now lodged the daggers firmly into the wings of his shoulder blades.

He screams out in pain now.

‘Come now,’ Ardyn coos calmly. ‘If you have the strength to scream, I suggest you redirect it into removing the daggers from your back, darling. Looks rather painful, I must say.’

Ignis ignores the tears trickling down his cheeks. He summons the daggers back into his hands, and this time as they disappear out of his grasp, he recalls them again. He knows he has snatched the blades off Ardyn, because Ardyn is pleased as fuck. The daggers are firmly in his hand, trails of blood now snaking into the carpet.

‘And such a quick learner too,’ Ardyn praises him, like a dog who has learned to fetch. ‘Very good. I suspect you will be able to carry out your plans soon enough, darling.’

‘Teach me … more,’ Ignis whispers, his voice strained from the effort.

‘No, that’s enough for today.’ Ardyn grips his hips and fucks him until he erupts inside of Ignis. He doesn’t knot him, but there is no need to. As soon as Ardyn releases him Ignis scrambles out of his grasp and roughly pushes the bulk of Ardyn off himself. His bleeding hands have already healed, but he doesn’t want any more pain.

Ardyn’s not the only one who’s had enough for today.


	13. Conjuration

He spends the rest of the next day in various spots around the room, practicing how to draw the daggers from the Armiger. The flash of red is unfamiliar and almost strange, but after his hundredth-draw, it has become a thing of familiarity. He has nothing else but time on his hands, so he summons the dagger again and again, until he can pull it out as soon as the thought alights in his mind.

At some point during the day, Ardyn enters his room. He doesn’t come through the door like a regular person, Ignis thinks irritably to himself. He simply appears in the room, manifesting quietly like the dagger he calls, and swans inside the bedroom to help himself to a drink. Then he plops his ass down on a chair. And then he watches Ignis.

It is terribly unnerving at first, the way he sits there, yellow eyes tracking him like a tiger’s, patient and predatory. Then Ignis finds that he no longer cares after a while. But after Ardyn has been there for at least four hours – four hours of silence, drinking from his glass, and watching Ignis with darkened eyes and a tiny smirk around his lips – Ignis has finally had enough.

‘Are you quite done?’ he asks snippily. He is easily tired nowadays. Ardyn is definitely putting his preternatural vampiric body through its paces, almost like he is testing him for resilience. The last time he had hunted was in Insomnia, and the last time he had received a large volume of blood was from Ravus.

Ravus’s blood had been nourishing and powerful, but the last edges of the satiation was beginning to lift, and it had his temper fraying in edges. He had drank enough from Ardyn to complete the bond and last another couple of days, but he seriously doubted if he would voluntarily ask Ardyn for blood now.

‘No, not at all,’ Ardyn answers easily. ‘I enjoy watching you. You’re simply fascinating, what can I say?’

Ignis brushes off the load of horseshit. ‘What do you want?’

‘Why, nothing!’ Ardyn laughs, knowing that he has successfully needled Ignis and thrown him off balance. ‘I’ve simply never met anyone like you.’

Now Ignis is wary, and he stands stiffly, still holding the dagger in his hand. He waits.

‘You’re graceful and feisty. Resilient, too. Simply beautiful, I say,’ Ardyn compliments him, but Ignis knows better than anyone that Ardyn’s tone is deeply playful, bordering on a cruel mockery. ‘I could picture myself falling for you – the fastidious and meticulous advisor, whose loyalty and persistence is beyond compare. Of course, it helps that you spread your legs so willingly too.’

Ignis calms his hackles. Ardyn just wants to play with his food before he eats. The first lesson that he has learned under Ardyn’s watch is not how to conjure a dagger from his Armiger, but that the man is a master manipulator, a man who will set the world on fire just to see how it burns. Ignis cannot take his words at face value, he must analyze the intentions behind those words. And right now, he is trying to get a rise out of Ignis.

So he deliberately takes a couple of breaths, before tossing out his next words. ‘Is that so?’ He says it in that dismissive tone that he has often used with Noctis that he knows will rile him into a high temper. Ignis continues pulling his dagger, then walks to the window. The sun is rising, and he can feel the fatigue settle in his bones.

He dismisses the dagger for the last time – for today, at least. He knows exactly what he will be doing tomorrow, and starts to change for bed. The pale blue shirt and charcoal slacks he is wearing today is practically pristine, since all he has done is pace up and down in his room.

He dresses into a snowy white nightshirt and loose pair of matching pants. They are made of the highest quality cotton, and are probably the single nicest thing about his new life in Zegnautus Keep so far. When he emerges from the bathroom, Ardyn is still sitting there.

Ignis slides into bed and folds his glasses onto the bedside table. He takes up residence in the middle of the bed, hoping to discourage any bedtime delusions that Ardyn might possibly have. Ardyn simply finishes his whiskey, and then stands.

He stands next to the bed, and sheds his heavy jacket and the layers of clothes he wears inside. Ignis shudders at the sight of that pale, marble-like body and turns his head away. ‘Move,’ Ardyn orders.

Ignis stares up at him. Ardyn climbs on top of the blanket, and forces his lips onto Ignis’s. He tastes like the bitterness of whiskey. His tongue is hot, in contrast to his cold body that Ignis can even feel through the layer of blanket. He is unlike any vampire Ignis had ever met, and the thought both intrigues and repulses him. What is this man? The question trips off his tongue before he could stop it.

‘How old are you?’ Ignis asks.

Ardyn’s eyes flash in the room as it gradually begins to light up. ‘Do you find me different? Or am I just so fascinating to you, omega?’ His fingers sneak underneath the blanket and under his pants to wrap around Ignis’s flaccid cock. ‘Too many clothes in the way, darling. From now on, I don’t ever want you to wear clothes to bed. You deserve to be naked all the time. Your gorgeous body demands it.’

Ignis’s nostrils flare with anger. And even now Ardyn is trying to strip his choices away from him. ‘Is that an order or a request?’ Ignis snaps.

‘Mm, considering your poor attitude right now and your unlikeliness to comply … let’s just say it’s an order.’

With an annoyed grunt, he rolls Ardyn off himself and begins shucking all of his clothes. He throws them in a heap on the ground, displeased enough that he won’t fold them neatly and put them away, as is his usual habit. What does it matter anyway?

He flops onto his back, and closes his eyes. Ardyn is laughing at him.

Fuck Ardyn, Ignis thinks to himself.

But the irony of course, is that Ardyn is the one fucking him.

He arises the next evening, positively thirsting for a drink. He knows he is unlikely to get one, so he slides off the bed and gets a glass from the bathroom and runs the tap. It is better than nothing, but this vampiric thirst for blood is hardly satiated from a glass of water, which is tepid and tasteless on his tongue.

He flicks open his hand and the dagger emerges. Then he closes his hand and it is gone before his fingers brush against the flesh of his palm. In the mirror, he can still see Ardyn in bed, although he is positive that he is not asleep. What game will he devise today to test Ignis’s patience and resilience?

He turns, throws the dagger into Ardyn’s back. He is still testing out its heft and weight and aim, and it has landed slightly off the mark. The dagger is lodged just below Ardyn’s ribs. The man doesn’t even make a sound, he just waves a hand and the dagger disappears in a flash of red light back into the Armiger.

‘Temper, temper,’ Ardyn tuts. ‘Such a bad way to wake anyone up. Clearly no one’s taught you any manners.’

He sits up in bed, and yawns. Ignis has never seen anyone pretend to be a human being so much when he is so far from it. ‘Teach me how to wield fire.’

‘So impatient … and rude.’ Ardyn throws the blankets back, and gets up. When he is nude like that, it intimidates Ignis a little. Without that stupid outfit, he cannot hide his large frame. Physically speaking, Ignis cannot see any imperfections. Where he is slim and lanky, Ardyn is tall and muscular, his frame athletic even though he’d rather move at a swagger and a snail’s pace. He conjures up a small orb of fire in the heat of his palm. ‘This is the gift of the Infernian.’

Despite himself, Ignis is drawn to it, and he walks close enough to be able to feel the heat emanating when he reaches out with his fingers. ‘It’s beautiful.’ The roaring ball of flame burns away in the heart of Ardyn’s palm. He braces himself, in case Ardyn gets any stupid ideas of slamming the flame onto his body. He might be a vampire, but he’s not a sucker for punishment.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Ardyn says, and seems content to let Ignis watch. ‘Of all people, perhaps it’s no wonder that you have such a fascination with it.’

‘Why is that?’ Ignis asks, flicking his finger into the flame before pulling back.

‘It’s in your name, darling. It’s etched in every cell of your body.’ Ardyn grabs Ignis’s wrist with his free hand, and Ignis stiffens visibly. The dagger is in his hand before he can think about it. But Ardyn only pulls him into his arms, Ignis’s back pressed against his front. Gingerly, he transfers the flame onto Ignis’s hand.

Ignis marvels at how it keeps burning but does not hurt him at all. He can feel the heat and the power that emanates from its core. Behind him, Ardyn has planted his hands on Ignis’s hips but does not do anything beyond them. He seems content to press his hips against Ignis’s buttocks. And despite all the sexual things he had done to Ignis whether he’s liked it or not, this by far seems like the most intimate. Ardyn playing at being nice or a thoughtful lover scares him more than anything.

‘To imbue your weapon with the flame, you simply to have to focus on bringing the two elements together. Call your dagger now,’ Ardyn instructs him, and Ignis complies. As soon as he brings the flame to the dagger, the dagger is suddenly set aflame. ‘You do this enough times, it will become second nature to you.’

Ignis cannot help but laugh as he feels the sense of accomplishment surge through him. Although he is far from being able to conjure up fire yet, this seems like a step in the right direction. Behind him, Ardyn encircles his waist into his arms, and presses fluttery kisses from his shoulder to the curve of his neck. Ignis examines the flaming dagger, turning it this way and another. It is a thing of beauty, and he can feel the magic imbuing every inch of the dagger, every lick of the flame.

He doesn’t even pay attention to the sting at his neck when Ardyn bites into him. He merely bares his neck, allowing him free access. Those hands have wandered down the curve of his hips, and slide down his ass before coming to rest in between his cheeks.

‘I can’t get used to this scent,’ Ardyn says, but so softly it’s like he is speaking to himself. ‘This sweet omega scent … I’ve never known it before. I could stick my dick into your hole all day and stay there.’

Ignis lowers the dagger, and dismisses it out of hand. He allows Ardyn to maneuver him onto the bed. Those insistent fingers push into him, and Ignis can only arch his back to fuck himself down on the fingers. He refuses to acknowledge how Ardyn is watching him closely, although he can feel the intensity of his stare burning into his skin, as real as the flames that they have conjured up a minute ago.

For all Ardyn’s faults, sexual prowess is not one of them. Ignis supposes that he has lived far too long not to know how to give and take pleasure, but when those fingers curl inside him they do something to Ignis’s mind. Suddenly he is not a man anymore, and is reduced to a simple omega who simply wants his bonded alpha close by, inside of him, all over him. He rubs mindlessly against Ardyn’s neck, and he wants to sink his teeth into that still tender flesh with the pulse beating just underneath it.

‘Go on,’ Ardyn is saying, and Ignis doesn’t even think about the fact that Ardyn has given him permission. All he knows is that he’s opened his mouth and bit down, and that flow of ambrosia onto his tongue and into his body is so pleasurable that he is sure that he will come without being touched. He barely feels it when Ardyn has hoisted up his hips and spread his legs, pushing into him until they are flush together.

His body knows what to do. Ignis tightens his arms around Ardyn, and rolls his hips forward even as he drinks liberally from Ardyn. The dual shocks of pleasure tears a moan from his chest, and he’s suddenly whimpering even though he is the one who is controlling the pace. Ardyn tightens his grip over Ignis’s hips, as if impatient with his teasing. He slams him down even as he thrusts his hips upward, and Ignis screams, feeling like he was being skewered from both directions. The pressure that is building in his body is immense, and he gives in to it even Ardyn takes and takes from him.

‘Come for me,’ Ardyn croons, his hand clamped over Ignis’s cock. He’s stroking too hard, and Ignis is about to come all over the both of them. ‘Come for me, my little omega.’ Ignis quietly sobs through the sensations of being driven off a cliff. But when the fall finally comes, he feels only relief.

Relief. Then shame. Deep, dark shame.

And what point does what they are doing become consensual? And even though his body is now curled up with joy and satiety from being embraced by his bonded alpha, but his mind is screaming at him in disbelief. His emotions are all confused and messy, as if he doesn’t know what he is supposed to be feeling.

And to make things even worse, Ardyn doesn’t leave. Instead, he puts his arm around Ignis, and draws him close.

Ignis does not know what kind of mind games Ardyn is trying to play, but it is clear that he is succeeding. Ignis is rattled, shaken down his very core. So shaken, that he knows he has to go on the offense. He orders himself to relax, and to keep still, to show submission towards Ardyn’s mocking affections.

If he doesn’t play the game, he won’t win.

Ignis fixes his stare on a single spot on the grey wall opposite the bed. And he stares, and stares, and stares, all the while feeling the burn of Ardyn’s arm around his midriff, not tight, but a restraining hold regardless. He feels the power of Ardyn’s blood pumping around his body, strengthening every cell of his body until he feels powerful, invincible. Like he could kill Ardyn right now and turn his body into dust.

He stretches out his hands, and conjures up the dagger in one hand. Easily, and simply, like it is second nature by now. That flash of red seems more familiar than that of the blue, from once upon a time. And in his empty, right hand, he imagines a ball of flame.

And suddenly, he knows.

Ardyn has not only gifted him the power in his blood, but of _knowledge_ as well.

He uses the same focus to conjure up the Armiger, and he knows instantly the moment he has unlocked it. It might have been mere minutes, or hours, but he finally feels that tiny kernel of heat that manifests in his palm.

And then it grows.

He feels a strangeness of his face. An awkward shifting of facial muscles. Is he smiling?

Yes, he’s smiling. After weeks of forgetting how to do so.

Then he feels a wetness leak from his eyes.

He watches the fire in his hand, and he lets it burn away all his shame, all his pain.

A fire is beautiful as it is dangerous, licking away at everything around it until it all goes down in a blaze. He must keep the fire going inside of himself until he can find his way back home. His own survival must triumph above all costs, he knows now. Deep in his heart, he knows that he will be able to.

Home, to Prompto, the blaze in his life.

To Gladiolus, the sturdy flames.

And Noctis, the heart of his fire.

He will find a way back home.


	14. Defiance

Ignis sits across from Drautos, and quietly sips from his glass of scotch, spiked with some human blood for dutch courage.

He watches Drautos just as surely as Drautos watches him. He knows that the man wants him, because his alpha scent is thick in the air. But Ignis will be damned if he lets this dirty traitor lay a finger on him. He has invited the man to his room for one purpose, and one purpose only. Drautos may have walked in looking for a docile omega to fuck, but he will not walk out of here alive.

In his empty hand, Ignis flexes around nothing. But he knows that the dagger is just a pull away, as is the fire gift. He has been practicing for days, and can visualize the touch of the dagger in his hand and the heat of the fire even in his dreams. He is ready for this. He is just waiting for the right opportunity.

He pretends to go through the motions of being wined and dined by Drautos. The man actually thinks that this is the way to buy his affections. It is as laughable as it is ridiculous. But there is no doubt that he is rather wary, because he knows that Ignis is now bonded to Ardyn. Ignis doesn’t need another alpha, but he knows for Drautos, the idea of not just any omega, but _Ignis the omega_ , willing to spread his legs open for him is too tempting of an opportunity to turn down easily.

Ignis tosses back the rest of the drink and stands up so abruptly that Drautos is forced to his feet too. He is rather taken aback when Ignis is the one that approaches him, but those hands greedily pull him close anyway, and plunges his nose against Ignis’s neck, and he takes a deep, intoxicating sniff.

He is being held in a parody of a lover’s embrace, and Ignis rests his cheek on the man’s shoulder. ‘To bed, please,’ he says quietly, and Drautos complies without question. 

Ignis pushes him down and straddles the man, and he waits until Drautos is unbuttoning his shirt when he makes his move.

He pulls the dagger in his right, and fire with his left, and smashes them together. Drautos responds quickly enough to open his hand up in defense over his heart, but even as Ignis stabs downwards, it all disappears. The fire, and the dagger.

And in his split second of shock, Drautos has flipped him over, and wrenched his arms behind his back.

Ignis summons the dagger again, but nothing appears.

And in his ear, he hears a low, dark chuckle. Fucking Ardyn.

Ignis knows he is pinned, but he can’t help fighting it anyway. He bucks and rolls, but Drautos is practically sitting on top of him. He twists, and tries to kick with his leg, but he has lost his advantage the moment he lost his focus when the dagger disappeared on him.

He should have known. He should have been prepared.

Ardyn is still playing his game, and Ignis has fallen for his tricks. He trusted Ardyn. It is supremely foolish to do so, but it is getting harder to tell which emotion is forged through the bond and which isn’t the longer they are bonded. A bonded omega trusts his alpha to protect him, to keep him safe. But clearly, Ardyn has no problems going against his own nature. He’s set Ignis up for this, and he is still shocked by the betrayal.

He wants to laugh, but he’s too pissed off to be able to do it right now.

He knows that he can’t fight his way out of Drautos’s iron grip, but he tries anyway. Boy, does he try. Even when forced facedown into the mattress, his arms pulled taut behind his back, vastly limiting his mobility. He wrenches his arms away, or at least he tries, and fights to roll onto his back. But Drautos will not let him now that he knows what Ignis is up to, and Ignis can only marinate in his own fury and it is his instincts that keep him fighting until the very last moment where Drautos knocks him out with a sharp blow to the back of the head.

Then he tumbles down in darkness, falling until there is no more.

He awakens to the sound of two men speaking to each other in low voices. Ardyn and Drautos.

He wants to burn them where they stand.

‘What game are you playing, Ardyn?’ Drautos says angrily.

Ignis would like to know too.

‘I’m just a generous man, General Glauca,’ Ardyn answers lazily. ‘You won’t find many that will share their omega, but I’m an enlightened soul. My humble self is infertile, as you know.’

‘Then why bother bonding with him in the first place?’ Drautos asks irritably.

‘Hmm. I wonder why.’ There is a short moment of tension in the air, a mere suggestion of rage in his voice, but Ardyn smooths it over with his next words. ‘I will allow you to bond with him, Glauca. But it is up to you to gain his favor. As you know, a soul bond requires the mutual consent of two people. You will have to woo him yourself, you know. I can’t do everything for you.’ His tone borders on snide insult.

Ignis would rather die before he bonded with Titus fucking Drautos, traitor to the crown of Lucis and everything and everyone he had ever loved.

He considers the situation carefully. He needs access to Drautos in order for the opportunity to kill him again, and he needs him close. But unless Ardyn will consent to releasing Ignis’s restrictions in accessing his Armiger, there is nothing Ignis can do. Drautos cannot die by his bare hands.

He needs to think. He needs to play the game, and stop letting his own emotions get the better of him. It has already cost him in his previous attempt, and he cannot afford to let it happen again.

Ignis experimentally moves his arms, and find that they are now bound tight, still behind his back. Of course he is. Damn it. He is lying down on the bed, on his side, but when he stirs, both men stop their conversation to stare at him.

He stares back at them. Then he layers need and desire in his voice, and reaches out to his inner omega. And the voice that comes out of him is definitely unlike his own – it is softer, deeper, and almost guttural. ‘Alpha,’ he commands quietly. ‘I need you.’

He watches as a deep, instinctive desire flash in their eyes. Ardyn’s is tempered with a sudden understanding, and he merely chuckles darkly. Drautos’s eyes are laced with wariness, as he is right to be. But it doesn’t mean that he’s not attracted, and Ignis can see his entire body straining to come towards Ignis.

Ignis turns to Drautos. ‘Alpha. Please.’ The voice that emerges is half-plea, half-whine, and all the muscles in his body are now clenched tight, reaching out for an alpha to embrace him. He closes his eyes, let the fire of desire ignite inside his body at the thought of a cock in his empty hole. Why does it matter who it is?

Then his scent fills the air, and Drautos’s eyes are blown, almost black with desire. ‘Alpha,’ Ignis says once more time, layering his voice with now with deep command, something primal from deep inside his belly. ‘Titus. I need you.’

It is enough for Drautos to move forward, slide his body against Ignis’s.

Ignis watches the expressions that plays across Ardyn’s face – amusement, perhaps, but there is a hint of anger too. Then Ignis turns away, as if dismissing him. He needs to concentrate on Drautos to keep him here. He does not want him going back to Lucis. As long as he stays away, Noctis will be safe. And Ignis will have his chance.

Drautos places a hand on the ropes binding his hands. ‘I can’t release you, omega,’ Drautos says.

‘I don’t care,’ Ignis whispers. ‘Just fuck me already.’

Drautos pushes him back and pulls his thighs open, thrusting his hard cock into Ignis like he is an object and not a person. Ignis relaxes his entire body, lets Drautos fuck into that moist warmth and the scent that is so thick in the air that Ignis is practically choking on it. But for the alpha rutting into it, it is like an ambrosia he cannot get enough off, and it drives him into a deep frenzy and elevates the need for him to bond with this omega.

But even as Drautos bites violently into his neck, Ignis merely presses his cheek into the sheets and resolutely refuses to bite back. He needs to lure Drautos into his trap, and he knows it will take a while. This is a long game he is playing here, and he has just taken the first step.

*

Ignis finds out that Titus Drautos is a very cautious man. He has to be, in order to successfully maintain the deception he’s executed all this time. He knows Ignis is up to something, but he knows Ignis cannot do much if he is bound in some way or another. Which is why Ignis spends most of his time with his hands tied up, even though Drautos doesn’t know that he still can’t pull from Ardyn’s Armiger.

But even though Drautos is wary, he cannot help but gravitate towards Ignis’s omega body, and is in fact, borderline addicted to it like it is a drug. They spend three days together, and Ignis can’t even count on both hands how many times he’s let Drautos touch him even though every cell of his body finds it repugnant.

It’s for a greater cause. The information he has gleaned when he forces himself to spend time in Drautos’s company, feigning need and want using commands that only omegas can use, is already paying off in dividends. For instance, he discovered that he hadn’t imagined Titus Drautos’s hungry stares skittering over him all the way back when they were still in Insomnia. Drautos has wanted him for a very long time.

Their work do not usually overlap, as he is the head of the Kingsglaive while Ignis is considered part of the Crownsguard. But as a junior member of the king’s council and advisor to the prince, they’ve encountered each other in professional capacity. Their coven is not large, and they’ve known of each other. What Ignis did not know was the Drautos has always admired his efficiency, his competency, and most importantly, his sheer loyalty to the crown. Ignis stops himself from explaining that it is because Drautos has none of his own.

He listens as Drautos presses feather-light kisses to the entirety of his back, worshipping his omega body with the same passion he desecrates it when the need to rut overtakes him. Ignis is both his god and his toy, and for the next three days, seemingly becoming Drautos’s entire world. It seems that Drautos has had fantasized about having Ignis for a while now, but Ignis has always been off-limits. He was part of Noctis’s pack, his advisor, and most importantly, under his protection. Ignis has always been untouchable to him.

But not anymore, and Drautos does not hesitate to press his opportunity.

Ignis does not mind, because he has an end goal in sight. All he has to do is wait it out until Ardyn relents to give up his own game. He just has to wait him out.

Ignis is on his back, a pillow underneath his hips, his legs spread open as Drautos slurps greedily at his entrance, tasting the slick that his body is producing. His fingers are lazily twisting inside of Ignis, and despite the waves of pleasure assaulting his body, he is still able to divorce his own mind from the proceedings. His bound wrists are resting on his stomach, his neck supported by a small mountain of pillows. He watches Drautos as he attempts to drown himself in the copious amount of slick. ‘What does it taste like?’ Ignis asks, more out of curiosity than a real need to know.

Drautos lifts his head, and his lips are shiny with spit and slick. Ignis’s fingers trail lazily down the man’s square jaw, in a mockery of what lovers would do. But he knows that Drautos likes these little gestures – he likes it when Ignis initiates endearments, or tenderness. ‘It’s sweet. And salty. And you smell like vanilla.’

Ignis remembers it when Prompto told him that he smelled like cake. He ignores that pang of pain when he thinks of his sunshine and firmly pushes it away. The memory of Prompto should never be anywhere near where he is now – the bottom of a dark abyss, where he must use his wits and his body to survive. Drautos rears up on his haunches and presses wet lips to Ignis. ‘Here, taste it yourself.’

It is disgusting – but he doesn’t know if it’s more of the kiss or the taste. He tastes sickly sweet, and salty at the same time, almost like a burnt salted caramel. His taste itself is inoffensive, but far too sweet for his liking. And yet the kiss they share is abhorrent in a way because while his omega body loves it, Ignis himself hates it.

Sometimes, the pretense of playing lovers is ten times worse than the actual fucking itself. This is one of those times. Ignis uses the palm of his hand to firmly push the man away from him, and pivots around to present himself on all fours. He knows that Drautos loves this, and for Ignis, it is easy to show submission when he doesn’t have to meet the man’s gaze.

Also, it is much, much easier to imagine someone else behind him when he closes his eyes, and loses himself in the sensations of his body breaking underneath the waves of desire churning inside of it like rogue waves seeking to toss a ship overboard.

His mind always go back to his prince. It is easiest to imagine Noctis behind him, hands firmly on his hips and the small of his back, holding him in place. His beloved Noctis, pumping into like a piston, fast and unrelenting and unforgiving, each thrust slapping against the nub of pleasure that has him keening and wailing his agony.

It is Noctis who comes with a deep groan inside of him, before folding the bulk of his body down to cover Ignis’s. It is Noctis who is stroking him off until he comes all over himself and the sheets.

And it is Noctis who holds him tight in his arms, and Ignis closes his eyes and lets the contentment seep into his body, and he luxuriates in the feelings of being safe and warm before he has to open his eyes again to face the stark room that is his prison and that the man behind him is not his beloved.

It is all right to pretend for now, because it beats knowing that his arms are empty and cold, reaching out for someone who is not there.


	15. Spark

Ignis feels the cold steel of his dagger, the knife-edge sitting against his breastbone.

His hands are still bound, but after a week into the game, it is tied a little more loosely than before. They used to leave marks, but now they do not. It is as if Drautos wanted to give him some leeway, but still did not entirely trust that Ignis would not try to harm him.

With his ass high up in the air, being rutted into by the man behind him, Ignis runs a finger over the dagger, as if trying to determine whether this is an illusion conjured up by a desperate man or if Ardyn has finally tired of Ignis’s little game.

The blade is sharp, and Ignis cuts the pad of his thumb on it. He moves it down the hilt, his movements smooth even though his body is being fucked roughly, rocking back and forth. Then the dagger disappears into the Armiger, as he has ordered it to.

And it appears under his grip again, when he calls it. He dismisses it again.

What gambit is Ardyn playing now? Will he let Ignis try again, only to take it all away in the end? How many more days of this must he endure?

His thoughts are pulled away when he is hauled into a sitting position, and pulled into Drautos’s lap. Their lips meet in a fiery kiss, one more teeth and tongue than any actual technique. Ignis feels Drautos’s cock, hard and pulsing inside of him, and he rolls his hips, pulling a gasp out of the both of them. Then he rides the man hard until they both tip over the edge. Ignis bites down hard on the man’s neck, and drinks at the moment of release. His blood is sweeter still after an orgasm has flushed through his body, and Ignis loves every moment of it. He takes so much blood that Drautos has to push Ignis off him. 

When it is over, Drautos kisses his shoulders. ‘I need to go out for a hunt.’

Ignis raises his head slightly. ‘You will come back soon, alpha?’ he says, his voice a little tremulous. His omega body is both pathetic and powerful, but this time more of the latter than former. Thankfully. 

Drautos kisses him. ‘Of course. Have you given any more thought to us bonding, Ignis?’

Ignis nuzzles at the man’s neck, but does not bite. Teasing, titillating. ‘How can I, when you spend all the time fucking me until I lose my mind?’

Drautos chuckles. ‘Very well. I’ll be back soon. Hopefully me giving you space will give you some clarity as well. I can protect you, Ignis.’

‘I know, alpha,’ Ignis says, his eyes fluttering closed. He traces his fingers over the wide chest. ‘Could you please put me in the bath? I’m filthy.’

‘I like you this way,’ Drautos says, twisting two fingers into Ignis’s sore, puffy entrance. Ignis moans into his mouth. His body is well and truly used, and he’s been fucked into oblivion. His thighs actually ache and tremble. ‘With my scent all over you, like you are mine.’

‘I am yours,’ Ignis says.

‘Then bond with me.’

‘I will. Soon,’ Ignis whispers. ‘Come back soon, Titus.’ He arches into Drautos’s touch, and fucks down on those fingers. He might be in pain and sore as hell, but it doesn’t stop the shameless pleasure from churning in his belly and spreading across his body. He cants his hips up and down until he actually does come, and the worst part of the whole thing is how Drautos’s gaze eats him up greedily the entire time.

He lets Drautos untie him and put him in the bathtub, before drawing up a hot, perfumed bath. He leaves with the promise to return soon. It is a few hours yet to dawn, but Ignis feels exhausted. But his mind is working overtime, and he knows he can’t rest until Drautos is dead. But he has no guarantee it will work, because Ardyn is a sadistic fuck.

And speaking of the devil, he stands in the doorway, mouth smiling, but those eyes tell a very different story. It is almost black, suggesting that there is something more demonic inside of Ardyn than Ignis has first suspected. It should be terrifying, but Ignis is no longer afraid. What is the worst that Ardyn can do to him? Kill him? That would be a relief after all the fucked-up shit and mental trauma he has put his body through. To be rid of them all – Ardyn, Drautos, and even the men he loves – it would be a release from all the agony of hating and loving.

‘You look like you’ve been having a lot of fun,’ Ardyn drawls patiently.

Ignis looks up at him. He doesn’t need to say a thing. Ardyn might be different, but he is not above the instinctive responses generated by his own bonded alpha body – jealousy, possessiveness, the overwhelming need to protect and defend. It is not the same for an omega – he might want and need his bonded alpha more than anyone else, but as long as there is an alpha close by to satiate the rampant lust in his omega body, he cares a little less about who it is. He is not fighting another omega for Ardyn’s attention.

He has two alphas who want him. And he knows that.

Ignis merely rolls his achy arms in the hot water. Ardyn’s gaze flickers to the angry bruises on his wrist, and there is a momentary tightening of his jaw before he smooths it over with a smile.

‘Why haven’t you used the dagger?’ Ardyn asks. And by that, he means to ask why hasn’t Ignis killed Drautos yet?

Ignis lays his head back on the edge of the tub, baring his neck, where he is sure Ardyn can see the countless bite marks left behind by Drautos. ‘I don’t know if you will take it away from me again,’ Ignis says simply. ‘Like you did the last time.’

Ardyn walks up to him, and kneels beside him outside the tub. Then his fingers massage Ignis’s scalp, brushing his wet hair back. Ignis closes his eyes. ‘I’ve been watching you these few days, my little omega. You’re very clever … _very_ clever. You put on such a convincing show for the man, I must say.’ Then he curls Ignis’s locks around a finger, and pulls. Hard enough that Ignis actually winces. ‘Although I have to wonder how much of it is simply good acting, or your true nature coming out, hmm?’

Ignis shrugs as best as he can under Ardyn’s hard, angry grip. ‘Pleasure is pleasure,’ Ignis says, and he can tell by the way that Ardyn’s eyes flash that he does not like the answer. Somehow, after this is all done, he knows Ardyn will make him pay.

‘Have all the fun you like, but do not forget whose omega you are.’

‘You’ve done nothing to protect me,’ Ignis says. ‘And you’ve done everything, short of offering me up to everyone who has a cock. So you can go fuck yourself.’

Ardyn rewards him with a light slap to the face. ‘You’re a mouthy little one. You’ve been spending far too much time in Titus’s company, I see.’

Ignis attempts to squirm out of his grip. ‘Let go of me.’

Ardyn bites down on his neck, and drinks until Ignis feels light-headed. ‘I will, when I’m done with you.’ His powerful arms haul Ignis out of the water like he is nothing but a plastic toy in the bath, and drags him over the bath mats on the floor. He struggles, wet and slippery, kicking and punching, but Ardyn hits him back and wrestles him to the ground. ‘Present.’

Ignis flails. ‘No,’ he spits out.

Ardyn smashes his face against the tiles. ‘Present yourself.’

He means for Ignis to show submission, and those black eyes are glittering with anger and resentment. Ardyn clearly doesn’t like the circumstances of his biology any more than Ignis does. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re a piss poor excuse for an omega?

‘I was never meant to manifest as an omega,’ Ignis spits wildly, feeling the sudden surge of anger rise inside of him.

‘And yet, here we are,’ Ardyn says, smiling at last, because he knows he has gotten underneath Ignis’s skin in turn. Ignis breathes heavy with his chest heaving, his cheek pressed against the cold tiles. His angry breaths are fogging over the glossy surfaces, and he is spitting mad. But it makes no difference how he feels, because Ardyn has one hand on his back, holding him down, and another hand pulling apart one leg. He sheathes himself, ball-deep inside of Ignis, and Ignis screams the pain and pleasure as Ardyn tries to humiliate him into submission.

When he is done, he rises to his feet and leaves Ignis discarded on the floor, like the useless toy he is. ‘Kill him and be done with it,’ Ardyn orders.

Ignis knows that he has Ardyn by the balls now. And there is a part of him, a deeply petty and vengeful one, that wants to see two alphas tear each other apart over him. But he is sick of pretending, and certainly hates the feel of two alphas using him like he is nothing. One is already bad enough.

He gets up on trembling knees. ‘No.’

Ardyn pauses, and then the next thing he hears is the man crouching down next to him. Ignis curls his arm over Ardyn, and allows the man to pull him into a sitting position.

Then Ignis pulls the dagger from the Armiger, conjures fire from his other hand. He brings both hands together on the flaming dagger and pushes it into Ardyn’s heart.

Ardyn is stunned speechless, and then he lets out a great, bellowing laugh even as he pulls the dagger out of his heart.

‘It doesn’t work on you,’ Ignis croaks, disappointed.

‘It doesn’t work on me,’ Ardyn confirms. Of course it doesn’t, Ignis thinks to himself. Ardyn may be a member of the Coven of Ifrit, whose members can be killed with a flaming dagger to the heart, but Ardyn is altogether a different creature. Ignis wonders for a brief moment if the man is immortal, perhaps. Because that would explain so much.

Ardyn grabs Ignis’s throat in his hand. Ignis may be a vampire, and oxygen being choked out of him will only knock him out, not kill him. Still, the asphyxiation is fairly unpleasant, and he takes a breath and nothing happens, because his airway will not open. Ardyn presses harder and harder, and Ignis feels a sharp pain. Ardyn has crushed his windpipe, and his entire body is fighting, flailing, struggling.

Ardyn lets him go, and watches him shake and struggle on the ground even as the magic inside his blood starts to mend the broken inside his body. The pain is gone as suddenly as it arrived, and he presses the tears from his eyes into the back of his trembling hand. ‘Kill him,’ Ardyn commands again, and this time Ignis does not say anything.

He is still in that position when Drautos finds him as the sun is rising, chasing away the last of the night. He feels broken and tired, even though the magic inside of him has fixed everything that hurts.

‘What the fuck happened?’ Drautos demands, crouching on the ground and placing both hands on Ignis. He picks him up like he weighs nothing. And Ignis instantly knows Drautos can smell Ardyn on him, because he makes a face. And for that, Ignis knows he will spare Drautos for one more day. Just to spite Ardyn.

He lets Drautos carry him back to the bed, and Ignis knows exactly what he is thinking, and anticipates his actions before Drautos’s mind even thinks of it. He holds out his arms, and only says, ‘Take care of me, alpha.’ He watches Drautos’s eyes darken in that flushed face of his, before he leaps at Ignis.

Ignis knows that Ardyn will be watching every single thing he does.

*

When Ignis rises the next night, he feels relaxed and well-fed. After fucking him yesterday, Drautos had then allowed Ignis to feed off him. He has so much magic circulating in his veins now, and it feels like he could take on anything.

He turns, and sees Drautos still sleeping next to him. Ignis wants to be done with him today, but is it cruel or kind to send him while he is still unconscious?

He feels horribly conflicted about the feelings he has inside of him. Drautos is a horrible traitor. But on the other hand, they have spent too many days together where Drautos’s parody of tenderness has at least invoked the illusion of safety within Ignis, and for that, he is very grateful. He will give Drautos a quick death, then.

Ignis sits up, and pulls from the Armiger. He turns the flaming dagger towards Drautos’s heart, and before he can stab downwards, Drautos is stirring. Ignis dismisses the dagger quickly and bends down to kiss the man.

Drautos opens his eyes, and all Ignis can see is a deep lust, followed by something else in his eyes. Fondness, perhaps? Or perhaps something more. And Ignis decides then and there that he can give Drautos this final parting gift, this last kindness before he dies.

He feels Drautos’s hands on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart even as their hips are already grinding into each other. Drautos’s erection is hard against his hole, and Ignis reaches back to slide him in. His hole is still soft and slippery from the day before, so well-used that it parts easily. Ignis spears himself, hearing those obscene sounds of their bare skins against each other. Drautos inhales deeply, and his eyes flutter open as Ignis is riding him. His arms reach for Ignis, and just as Drautos’s body tenses up and expels his spend into Ignis’s heat, Ignis is ready.

He pulls from the Armiger, and with a quick flick of his wrist so the dagger is pointing true, he plunges it downwards.

Drautos screams, his gaze fixed into the distance, as the fire and sword burns away and destroys the core of his vampire strength. It is over so quickly, quicker than he expected.

Ignis gently closes those open lids before hastily pulling off Drautos’s body. His own chest is heaving at the shock that it has worked, and unexpectedly well too. Then he gets to his feet after pushing off the edge of the bed. He doesn’t realize that his knees are shaking, so he crashes to the ground, bare, wet ass hitting the tiles rather spectacularly.

He presses his hand to his face, in hopes that it will stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

There is a clink of a crystal highball on the ground next to him.

Ignis can smell Ardyn in the room with him.

He bites his tongue and forces the tears to go back to where they came from. He won’t cry in front of his tormentor. He simply won’t.

So instead he takes the glass and drinks. All of it burns going down. Then it comes back up, and he barely manages to leg it to the bathroom.

He hears only one thing – Ardyn’s dark chuckle in his ear.


	16. Retribution

Ignis spends the next week in bed before he is dragged out of it.

He knows that there will be a reckoning, because he has killed the High Commander of the Niflheim army. He holds no illusion that Ardyn will even attempt to protect him. In fact, he has no doubts that it would be Ardyn jockeying for the harshest punishment, because he is that sort of a man. They are unlikely to put him to death because they still need him as an omega, but they will not let this deed go unpunished.

Five MTs burst into his room and yank him out of bed, slamming him into the ground. He could probably take them, but they will only send more. They force him to his feet and his hands behind his back. They don’t even give him time to change. He is still dressed in his outfit from a week ago, a periwinkle blue buttoned shirt and grey slacks. It is the last of the outfits that he had brought with him from Insomnia, because all of his dirty clothes has been sent to the laundry but never found their way back. He’s been in bed for a week, so the shirt is hopelessly wrinkled.

His hair is lank and flat, and his glasses are still on the bedside table. But where he’s going anyway, he doesn’t need his glasses.

They dump him on the cold floor of a circular throne room, where the dying, weak emperor is slumped on his throne and looking like he might die within the next couple of minutes. The room is ringed with a crowd of people. Some he recognizes, the majority he doesn’t. The entrance are guarded by MTs.

So there will be an audience to his humiliation. Ardyn sits by the emperor’s right hand, and his golden eyes are positively glittering with malice. Ravus, the newly promoted High Commander, now stands on the other side.

The emperor pretty much mumbles through his crime, and his punishment. Ignis doesn’t catch any of it, because he is barely listening. They are not even offering him a trial of any kind, and have already pronounced him guilty.

Well, he is that. But it doesn’t matter to him. Because he knows now that Titus Drautos, General Glauca of the Niflheim Empire can no longer touch Noctis. Noctis is safe. Any price Ignis has to pay is worth it. But he knows if Ardyn has his paw prints all over it, the punishment will be difficult to bear.

And he turns out to be right. They have decided since their one and only omega cannot be harmed too badly, a good dose of pain and humiliation is in order. Ignis braces himself for it, but it turns out to be worse, so much worse.

Under those gazes, some greedy, some averted, he is stripped to the skin. He knows that he is unlikely to see his outfit again, and somehow there is a pang of pain inside his heart upon that discovery. They take an enormous wooden cane to the back of his thighs.

Magitek Troopers are soulless, emotionless machines programmed to follow instructions. So they coldly take up the cane and whip him fifty times, hard enough to break flesh and draw blood. Every single bite of the cane is an insult to his flesh, and he bites down in pain every single one of the fifty strokes he receives.

He refuses to let even a single scream escape.

The pain is so overwhelming that he can tune out all those gazes boring down on him. His entire body is shaking uncontrollably, his body bowed in pain. But under all that torn flesh, he can already feel the magic knit his tendons and sinews together, and skin closing over.

He sees a pair of boots saunter into his sight, and knows that they belong to Ardyn. After all, how many times has he been flung to the ground, his gaze level with Ardyn’s shoes, while the man deigned to inflict whatever humiliation he wants to?

Then Ardyn crouches down next to him, and gently tugs Ignis’s chin in his hand. ‘Had enough yet, little omega?’

Ignis is trembling so hard, his teeth chattering. Fifty strokes is more than enough for this lifetime. But Ardyn wants something.

Ardyn chuckles. ‘Then you only have to do one thing, omega. Beg. Beg for mercy. You’re on your knees already, so all you have to do is open this gorgeous mouth.’ Ardyn rubs his thumb over Ignis’s bruised lips, for he has bit down too many times during the caning. Then he pushes past his lips and onto his tongue, forcing his mouth open. ‘I want to hear you beg, darling. And if you do it prettily enough, I’ll have a chat to His Majesty for you. Maybe he’d let you off lightly, you never know.’

Beg? Plead for mercy? Ignis growled, feeling the kernel of anger inside him grow and grow until it practically warms him from inside. And in a voice loud enough to travel, he spits Ardyn’s thumb out of his mouth and says, ‘Fuck. You. All.’

Ardyn’s hand return to stroke his temple, and honestly the very gesture itself makes him want to vomit. Those golden eyes are practically flashing yellow in sadistic amusement. ‘Oh well then.’ He clicks his fingers, gestures to Ignis. ‘It’s going to be a good show then. Remember, you can opt out at any time. You know what to do.’ He tips his head in mock sadness. ‘Oh dear, but you might not be able to, if your mouth is full. Ah well.’

Ignis glares at him, full of hate. Ardyn backs away now, swanning back to his own seat, as two Magitek Troopers yank him up to his hands and knees. They force his legs open and fuck him from behind, and then force his lips open and fuck him from the front.

What else is new? Ignis thinks wearily to himself. He has long inured himself to this sort of humiliation, after all, is it truly any worse than when Ardyn, with his body full of strange darkness and corruption, touches him against his will, or when it was Drautos, whose takes whatever he wants to from Ignis when he was practically the paragon of betrayal?

He slides his eyes closed. He does not want to see the looks on their faces – the indifference of the emperor, that cruel enjoyment in Ardyn’s, and worst of all, the shocked repugnance in Ravus’s gaze. He lets his body be fucked, and he floats away into a sea of nothingness, protected by the warm fury he has pulled around himself like a blanket, and he seeks the connections that he has left behind so long ago.

When he was seventeen, roughly three years before he was turned, he had followed Noctis out of the Citadel. The crazy kid had snuck out at dawn, and he had informed Ignis just before he stepped out into the watery sunshine. Noctis and Gladiolus were true blood vampires, born into the preternatural life the moment they were born. Sunlight couldn’t kill them, but it could send them into a fatigued stupor. But Noctis was young and stupid then, and Ignis had no choice but to follow. He was the only human among them, and if anything happened, he was at full strength and could protect them.

Noctis hit an arcade, and all Gladio did was bitch about Noctis’s careless behavior. Ignis has followed closely, a mass of anxieties knotted in the deep of his stomach. He didn’t want to get in trouble for Noctis’s transgressions, and he certainly didn’t want Noctis in trouble either. Then Noctis had gone to a random park, flopped out on the grass.

‘Doesn’t that hurt?’ Ignis asks, kneeling on the ground next to him.

Noctis shrugs. ‘What, the sunlight? No. It kind of burns a bit. But it’s not bad.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Gladiolus complained. ‘I feel like I’m dying here. It’s stinging my skin, and I don’t like it.’

Perhaps it was just as fortunate that there was quite a bit of cloud cover on that cool morning. Noctis flings an arm over his eyes, and he tugs Ignis down with him. He pulls Ignis in for a kiss, and Ignis finds it fascinating that Noctis actually smells like grass and sunshine instead of his usual pine forest scent. His mouth tastes sweet from the pink bubblegum he’s been chewing, and Ignis leans into the kiss.

Then Gladiolus tugs him off Noctis and yanks him into his lap instead. ‘My Iggy. My turn,’ he says, and Ignis laughs before kissing him.

They didn’t do anything of significance during that morning expedition, and they had never done it again. But Ignis had somehow pegged it as one of his fonder memories, because he remembered how it felt like to be safe, and to be loved.

He comes back this brutal reality, where he is absolutely nothing at all, and he wishes he hadn’t. But his attention is drawn to the conversation somewhere above his head. He feels an unfamiliar hand on his head, and instead of a cock in his mouth, Ravus is standing in front of him. He has just pulled an MT off Ignis. And he stands so close that Ignis has to blink to process what is happening. He spits saliva and come onto the ground in front of him.

‘Enough,’ Ravus is saying. ‘For fuck’s sake, we only have one omega in the entire fucking empire, and this is how we treat him?’

Ardyn has leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed on the other knee. Ignis can tell that he’s not happy, even though his voice remains calm and pleasant. ‘Oh?’

Ravus irritably swings around and kicks the MT behind Ignis, and shoves the trooper to the ground. ‘Chancellor, this is your bonded omega. What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘And I’ve given my permission for him to be taught a lesson,’ Ardyn purrs. ‘Why, High Commander, would you like a turn too? You only have to ask.’

Ravus scoffs coldly. ‘If you intend for him to carry children, stop mistreating him. Emperor, I must insist in this case. Consider another punishment if you will, but this is utterly ridiculous and serves no purpose. Fifty strokes is more than enough.’

The way he stood by Ignis was protective, and Ignis can feel a flare of hope and fear in his heart. Hope, because someone is trying to get him out of this predicament, but fear, because there is a chance that he will not succeed and the disappointment and humiliation will be worse than ever before.

‘Ravus …’ the emperor begins.

‘Then you do it,’ Ardyn taunts him. ‘If you don’t like the idea of the soldiers doing it, then you do it.’

This was the same situation they had weeks ago. Or was that months ago now? He no longer remembers.

Ravus’s entire body stiffens in fury. ‘I’m not going to play your games, chancellor! And I’ve said it again, I’ve no interest in your used goods.’

‘Then that’s all the better,’ Ardyn retorts. ‘The omega needs a lesson in humiliation, my dear High Commander. We can’t break him, but we must bend him to our will.’

‘If this is your way of retaliating simply because you cannot control your own bonded omega, then I believe it’s time for him to bond with another alpha,’ Ravus declares, and the entire room stiffens in tension. This is a bold statement, as good as a declaration of a fight between alphas.

Ardyn’s eyes flash. ‘Ravus Nox Fleuret,’ he begins. ‘Are you challenging my claim over the omega?’

Ravus knows this is a fight he cannot win, so he subverts it instead. He lifts Ignis up and into his arms, heedless of the way his blood smears on his white coat, and walks the few short steps to Ardyn. Then he practically throws Ignis into Ardyn. ‘Then see to your omega and impregnate him. Keep the rest of us out of it, chancellor. He’s been punished enough for Glauca’s death. As a former Lucian, he certainly had just cause to kill him.’

Ravus bows perfunctorily to the emperor. ‘I’m sure you will agree, Your Majesty. There’s no point in prolonging this farce. If Ardyn can’t breed him by his next heat, we shall look into obtaining another alpha for him. If I have to do my duty for this empire, then so be it.’

Ignis knows that Ravus has earned himself a powerful enemy, but at least now that he is High Commander, he can at least stand toe-to-toe with the Chancellor.

Ardyn chuckles, but all the coiled anger in his body is gone, and he merely looks like he is bantering lightly. He orders the MTs to take Ignis back to his room. The relief that courses through him is immense, and the pain long forgotten. He feels disgusting, so he crawls to the bath and soaks himself, pondering his next move.

Ravus might have made himself an enemy, but Ignis recognizes that it may mean that he has a potential ally. Ignis is highly reluctant to bond with another alpha, though. He’s gotten lucky in that Ardyn is infertile, but Ravus is unlikely to be. He’s young and in his prime, a pureblood vampire from a noble house. The last thing Ignis wants is to be carrying a child. Not right now.

But it might be worth the protection that Ravus can give him. Ravus isn’t a cruel man, and from what Ignis has seen, has been kind to him in his own way.

He can feel Ardyn’s hand tugging gently at the strands of his hair. ‘I see you’ve found yourself a new protector,’ he croons, almost teasingly.

Ignis soothes away the instinctive fear that rears up in him. The last time Ardyn had approached him in the bath he had been violent and rough, with a hint of true anger, which had terrified him. He stays as still as possible, but defiance is etched into every cell of his being. He won’t cower under Ardyn’s touch, and he will never, ever beg for mercy.

But where Ardyn might have been angry the last time, now there is some madness alongside the fury.

‘So stubborn,’ Ardyn says, his other hand running down Ignis’s neck, shoulders, back. His touch is hard, almost firm. There is no affection here, and Ardyn is close to throttling him. ‘So beautiful as well. Ravus was right, you know. It is my fault that you’re stepping out of line. I should have broken you first before I brought other partners in to play with you.’

Ardyn’s hand wraps around Ignis’s slender neck, and he grips hard. ‘Before I let you think you have any sort of control in your hands.’ He tightens his grip, and Ignis braces his hands against the smooth walls of the tub. ‘Before you made the decision to bond with me.’ This time, he grips so hard that all the air is choked out of him.

‘Our darling High Commander was right. This is a mistake I intend to rectify. How long do you think it will take to break you, omega?’ Ardyn’s other hand holds his right arm, and wrenches it from its socket. Then his hand curls around Ignis’s forearm, and he crushes the bones.

Ignis screams, his wails piercing the air.

Ardyn yanks him out of the bath by his broken arm, and drags him into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm thinking the same thing you are - WTF am I doing to Iggy? 
> 
> *looks at next chapter and realizes it will be worse* I don't know guys, I really don't. But it will get better ... soon?


	17. Flashpoint

Ardyn makes good on his promises. He does everything in his power to make Ignis suffer, and to learn the true meaning of humiliation. He has holed himself up in Ignis’s room for the fourth straight day in a row, and Ignis would rather death than one more day of this.

The first day he broke every single bone in Ignis’s body, and the first lesson that he learns is that the man has a preternatural strength beyond a vampire’s. Ignis howls in pain at the first broken bone and is whimpering wordlessly at the last. He is a puddle of pain, and every last nerve in his body is aflame. He has never known such agony in his life. The injuries are healing quickly by the magic inside his blood, knitting together even as Ardyn breaks something else.

And then Ardyn does it all over again.

His skull is fractured, and he is slumped on the ground. This is the fourth time Ardyn has broken him, and the reservoir of magic inside his body is still doing its job, but at a much slower pace. Pain upon pain floods his body like an inescapable wave, and all he can do is stay still and pray that the magic will soothe it away and that Ardyn will stop.

He does, at some point, but Ignis has no idea when. He passes out during an interminable period where Ardyn had gotten hold of his foot and had crushed everything below the ankle under his boot, as if trying to ground his bones into powder.

When he comes to, he is staring into Ardyn’s face, with its twisted expression of malice and glee. There is a madness in those eyes that Ignis can see when they are this close to each other. ‘Beg,’ Ardyn orders him, and Ignis’s lips tremble but do not part.

Ignis physically can’t say the word. His windpipe is still crushed, and the words will not leave his lips. But even if he could, he won’t, because he knows this is what the man will derive pleasure from and he hates Ardyn and he won’t give Ardyn the satisfaction.

‘Beg me to stop,’ Ardyn strokes his cheek with his thumb, and eases open his newly healed jaw.

Ignis glares at him, and Ardyn pulls from his Armiger to impale Ignis in the gut with a long sword. And then another, and then another.

Two can play at this game. Ignis spits blood onto the floor, and as soon as the bones of his right wrist heals, he pulls his dagger and stabs Ardyn in the heart. Or at least, where his heart should be but he clearly has none because he won’t die. He won’t die no matter how many times Ignis stabs him, which he certainly does try. He pulls it out again and stabs Ardyn with it again and again unless he is slick with blood and he only stops when Ardyn breaks both of his arms.

This is insane, and they have both lost their minds. Ignis wants to die, because this torture is beyond the limits of his imagination. But Ardyn won’t let him be, so all Ignis can do is hold on.

He does so, but barely. And that was their first day together.

The second day is not as physically terrible like the first day, but in a way it is almost worse. Ardyn toys with Ignis until he almost wishes that Ardyn was physically breaking him instead.

He drains all the blood out of Ignis, then lets him take little sips at Ardyn’s own wrist. It’s like offering a man dying of thirst a drop of water at a time, and the torture almost snaps his mind. The thirst is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, including the first time after he was turned. He had ended up drinking and drinking, killing about five humans in the process before Gladiolus and Noctis physically stopped him and dragged him away.

This is agony to a vampire like him. The magic dissipates and sparks into nothingness, and the next time Ardyn hurts him – and it is a simple injury this time, breaking his ankle – his leg won’t heal. He feels like a hollow, empty husk, devoid of all strength and power. He can’t even speak.

Then Ardyn offers him a tiny drink, slapping him away when he tries to take more than a mouthful.

Even though he knows that the blood tastes corrupt and there is something inherently wrong with it, he needs it, with every fiber of his being.

And then finally, finally, when his mind is so close to snapping, Ardyn lets him have a full feed.

Ignis passes out shortly after that.

When he had awoken in the late evening of the third day, he found that he had been cleaned up, although the room was still a literal, bloody mess. He was in bed, and Ardyn was curled around him.

Ignis’s body begins shaking so hard like he is having full body tremors. That wakes Ardyn up, and he glances at Ignis with deep affection. ‘Did you have a good sleep, my sweet little omega?’ He clamps a hand down on Ignis’s torso, preventing him from moving away.

The madness in his eyes in intensifying, Ignis thinks to himself. The man is losing whatever is left of his grip on reality, and Ignis does not know why, or how to stop it.

But he is almost too terrified to fight back when Ardyn kisses him, and he has to force himself to relax his mouth so Ardyn can have access. But he realizes too late that Ardyn has bitten his tongue before he kisses Ignis, so they their mouths meet, Ignis is forced to drink Ardyn’s blood.

It is thick, and sweet, but it is also bitter, and that sense of wrongness is so overwhelming, and Ardyn forces every single drop down his throat.

When Ignis finally breaks the kiss, he spits it out, and sees that the blood is completely black. ‘What is this?’ he whispers.

Ardyn ignores him. ‘Are you ready for a story, little omega?’ Without even waiting for Ignis’s reply, he begins his story-telling session in a chillingly casual voice. ‘Once upon a time, nearly two thousand years ago, there was a man. He was a good and noble man, the heir to the Crown of Lucis. He also had a gift – a gift was absorbing the darkness within other people. The darkness was called the starscourge, and if left unchecked, would turn humans into monsters. So he did his best, went around to help people.’

‘But you know what happened to that poor, pathetic bastard?’ Ardyn pushes his fingers into Ignis’s hair, and yanks. Not hard, but firm enough that Ignis is forced to bare his throat. ‘Well, let’s just say he got his just desserts. He was cast out by the gods, and cursed with immortality. Meanwhile, all the traitorous sons of bitches around him take everything from him. Ain’t life grand?’

Ardyn’s loud laughter raises the hair at the back of his head. He knows without a doubt who Ardyn is referring to, but it can’t be. Ardyn is a forked serpent.

He needs to find the truth for himself. He brings up both hands and puts his entire strength behind felling the great beast to his back, and he bites down on Ardyn’s neck, and drinks deeply, allowing the feelings and memories transfer into his own head.

He sees a much younger Ardyn, a human Ardyn, who travels around the world willingly taking starscourge into his body, and he takes it all until it corrupts everything inside of him. The gods deny him, and strip him of the crown that was his birthright. They take part of his corrupted blood, and fuse it into his brother’s, who becomes the Founder King of Lucis, the first vampire who holds the grace of Bahamut. Meanwhile, the denied man cannot die, and is forced to live for two thousand years, the darkness constantly warring with whatever humanity remains inside of him, the checked balance of dark and light keeping him alive, keeping him tethered to this world.

But seething inside is the man who started it all – the man whose body and blood had formed the first vampires, and he is hungry for vengeance.

Ignis rips himself off Ardyn, his mouth still dripping with corrupt blood. ‘You’re the Progenitor King,’ Ignis whispers, shocked. All vampire blood can be traced back to a single individual – him. And yet while they have shades of his strength, his life force, his thirst for blood to quell the darkness that swirls inside, they are not saddled with the ultimate curse of all – immortality.

No wonder Ignis can’t hurt him.

He is a very, very old vampire, and the fount of vampiric power. He can tear Ignis apart with his bare hands, and all he wants is for the world to burn while he watches.

Ardyn rubs absently at the bleeding wound in his neck, and his sticks his fingers into it before it can heal over. He brings those fingers to his own mouth, and tastes it. His eyes flash with a deep bitterness, and something completely inhumane. Black ichor flows from every orifice of his body, and Ignis braces himself.

His hand shoots out, faster than Ignis can even see with preternatural eyes, and he pulls Ignis down under his body. Ignis can’t even react - he is too stunned at the turn of events, and for the first time ever since his arrival at Gralea, he is terrified. He’s realized something very important that he wishes he had been privy to in the first place.

The dark and light live in balance inside of Ardyn, and had done so for the last two thousand years. But something is now tipping the balance, and Ardyn is losing the last of his sanity.

All because Ignis cemented the soul bond between them, and the flood of feelings and emotions and anger and resentment and bitterness and primality and instincts that come with a soul bond are now working actively to undermine that balance.

‘You can’t kill me,’ Ardyn laughs. ‘Only the King of Light can.’

The King of Light? Is that a literal person or a metaphor?

‘Who is it?’ Ignis asks.

Ardyn smiles at him, amused. ‘You would like to know, wouldn’t you? And if you did, what would you do with that piece of knowledge?’

‘I would use it to end you,’ Ignis answers, and his honesty makes Ardyn laugh.

‘If only you could,’ Ardyn says. ‘I would welcome that kindness.’

‘Tell me and I’ll help you,’ Ignis says. He has seen the weariness in Ardyn’s soul. Immortality is not as wonderful as humans think it is. Immortality is an anathema to life. Ardyn has lived too long – he know longer knows how it is to live, and how to love.

That single sentence enrages Ardyn to the point that he picks up Ignis with one hand and flings him down onto the carpet like he is a ragdoll.

Ignis doesn’t even move as he lays there. He has to think. What is he supposed to do now?

Nothing. The bond has been established. He can’t take it back, as much as he would like to.

There is only silence in the room, and Ignis tells himself to stay still. He’s terrified, horrified. He doesn’t know what to do now, but he knows that this is his fault.

‘Do you understand now, little omega?’ That seemingly sane voice emerges from Ardyn, as he sneers at Ignis over the edge of the bed. ‘Do you understand what you’ve done?’

He spends the rest of the night on the carpet, hoping that Ardyn will ignore him.

How long until Ardyn loses himself completely?

What can Ignis do to stop him?

How do you kill an immortal?

Where can Ignis run to?

In the hazy twilight hours of the dawn, he briefly senses Ardyn next to him. Every muscle in his body freezes up in fear, but the omega inside of him reaches out. He says his next words without even really thinking about it. It’s worked well with Drautos before, but he thought it would never work on Ardyn. But there is something deeply primal inside the both of them that is connected by the bond they share, and in his half-awakened state he uses it without thinking.

‘Alpha,’ he says. It is a plea and a command wrapped up in a single word – demanding and asking for protection and safety. 

Ardyn’s yellow eyes flash with a deep anger and lust, before it is soothed away by a very human amusement. ‘You’re trying your tricks on me?’ He laughs, and yet he scoops Ignis into his arms and drops him onto the bed.

Ignis’s body responds mindlessly. ‘I need you, alpha,’ he says, and his scent fills pungently in the air. He pulls Ardyn into his arms, and layers need and power into every imprint his fingers leaves on Ardyn. He watches Ardyn’s eyes darken until it is completely black.

Ardyn’s fingers drift down to the slick on his thighs, and Ignis arches into his touch and moans. He accepts the hungry nips that Ardyn bestows onto his bare skin, and he locks Ardyn inside his embrace. His legs, muscles still stiff from the repeated healing from the beating it has taken two days before, are crossed at the ankles behind Ardyn’s back. Ardyn slides into him, and Ignis keens, canting his hips until Ardyn’s hips are flush against his ass, and everything inside of him starts to go up in flames.

Ardyn ruts into him, and Ignis takes more, and more, until they are both on the verge on falling off a cliff. All Ignis has to do is squeeze his ass, and Ardyn comes with a shout, his cock slapping that nub of pleasure hard enough that Ignis comes right after him.

Those golden eyes open and stare right at him. ‘You are mine, omega,’ he says. ‘This is your place. This is where you belong.’

Ignis freezes, but soothes it away by dropping into his primal instincts. ‘Keep me safe, alpha,’ he whispers.

‘You will be safe, as long as you stay with me,’ Ardyn says. Then he closes his eyes, his arms around Ignis’s torso, his cock still lodged deep inside Ignis.

Ignis sleeps uneasily that day.

And he wakes up to Ardyn making endless circles with his finger on his Ignis’s right calf.

His gaze follows the line of his leg, where one of Ardyn’s patently ridiculous scarves is now binding his right ankle to the iron frame of the bed. It is clear where Ardyn wants to keep him, and Ignis shudders. What fresh hell will tonight bring? What else is Ardyn keeping up his sleeve?

As much resentment and repugnance he has for the man, he can’t help but feel the spurt of pity as well. He doesn’t know if it’s the soul bond that is skewing his feelings, but there is tragic sadness about Ardyn’s story as well. He had only meant to serve his people, but the gods had turned their backs on him in a twisted destiny. But no one ever said life was fair. He supposed that he could sympathize in a certain way.

‘Oh good, you’re awake,’ Ardyn says, almost gleefully. And Ignis fears a flare of fear inside of him. It sounds like Ardyn was waiting for him. He’s going to do something, Ignis knows it. He can feel it in his gut. There’s something akin to madness at the other end of the bond. It is unstable, and it is highly volatile.

‘I have to go soon,’ Ardyn continues. ‘But I wanted to look upon your eyes one more time. For good luck.’

Ignis breathes quietly to calm himself. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m going to do what I need to,’ Ardyn says. Then he laughs. And laughs. And laughs. ‘It’s time.’

‘What,’ Ignis swallows nervously. ‘What do you want? With all of us?’

Ardyn’s finger never stops moving, although there is a tiny quirk at the corner of his lips. ‘I want this world destroyed. I want every single human and vampire to die screaming, and then I want to burn everything. But not you, darling. You only have one job. Stay by my side.’ That blackness in his irises have now overtaken the yellow, leaving only golden flecks in a sea of black.

He can feel that madness bubble up the thread that is their bond, meeting Ignis’s frantic anxiety midway. ‘Alpha,’ he says, lacing his voice with deep magic borne of his power as an omega. ‘Stay with me.’

But Ardyn fights it off, which suggests that Ardyn is barely under the thrall of their soul bond and his biology. The bond is merely the thing that is the tipping point for full-blown madness to take over, where is has been festering inside Ardyn for a very long time. He only laughs at Ignis’s attempt.

‘Come here, omega. I only wish I could fill you full of my starscourge until you are choking on it. Those beautiful lips, gasping for breath, and that throat, suffocating under the weight of this endless darkness.’ Ardyn wraps his hand around the back of Ignis’s neck. Then very firmly, he pushes Ignis until he is fully in his arms, in a ridiculous parody of parting lovers. Ignis lets him.

He can sense Ardyn’s pleasure at the act, and perhaps more so of Ignis’s quiet submission.

Ardyn kisses his mouth, and Ignis forces himself to keep still when it happens. ‘I’ll be back soon enough, little omega.’

Ignis rears up to his knees, and he feels the tug on his bound ankle. It’s just cloth, and he can break it easily if he needs to. Then he pulls on it, and looks more closely. Ardyn must have infused some sort of magic into the fabric, because it feels as solid and unbreakable as metal chains. ‘No,’ Ignis says, and he reaches out to grab Ardyn.

‘Stay,’ Ardyn says. ‘When I return, the world will be covered in blood, and I will bathe you in their guts. It will be glorious, little omega. And then I will fuck you until the world ends.’

Ignis reaches out to grab Ardyn again, and the uncomfortable wrench in his ankle tells him that if he strains any farther, he is likely to break his ankle. He does so anyway, gasping at that loud snap in his desperation to get to Ardyn. While he does not relish the idea of Ardyn staying here with him, festering in his madness, he reckons it might be the safer option than what he is currently threatening.

He doesn’t know what Ardyn will do to everyone else outside of this room, and Ignis fears for them.

But he fails, because the next thing he knows is that Ardyn has placed his hand on the top of his head, like he is petting a dog, and saying only one word, ‘Sleep.’

And despite the fact that he has only arisen, he closes his eyes and tumbles back down into an endless darkness.


	18. Flight

Someone is jostling him awake.

Ignis opens his eyes, and notes the hand on his shoulder. Firm, with a sense of urgency as well. The last memory before he blacked out rushes back into him. He gently rotates his ankle, and finds that it’s completely fixed. The scarf that was tied around his ankle is gone. He looks up to see not Ardyn, but Ravus Nox Fleuret standing over him.

He jolts into Ravus’s calming touch, and breathes in the strong scent of sandalwood in the air. The source of it is Ravus, who is now emanating his alpha scent in a bid to keep Ignis’s inner omega calm. He lifts his head, braces himself. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘We need to go, right now,’ Ravus firmly yanks him into a sitting position, and holds a shirt up for him to get into. Ignis notes with some degree of shock that it is his periwinkle blue shirt and grey slacks, last seen on the day of his public punishment. It’s a little wrinkled now but not too bad, and most importantly it smells strongly of his own omega scent, and there is some comfort in that. Ignis lets Ravus help him into the clothes, and then to his feet.

‘Where … are we going?’

‘We are leaving Gralea,’ Ravus answers tightly. ‘I’ll explain it all when we’re onboard Commodore Highwind’s airship. Will you come willingly?’

Ignis halts. ‘No, I can’t. I … can’t leave. What happened? Why are you taking me?’

‘The chancellor has assassinated the emperor and he’s taken control of the imperial army. He’s currently working through the Keep, slaying everyone in sight. He’s lost his mind, and you are not safe here. Come with me, please.’

Ignis looks at Ravus’s outstretched hand, urgency etched in every line of his aristocratic face. He doesn’t know Ravus well enough, but the few times they’ve encountered each other, he’s been kind enough.

But Ardyn is his bonded, and he is Ardyn’s omega. He can’t leave.

Ignis shakes his head to clear it. What is he even thinking? Ardyn is a danger to everyone, especially his omega. He is completely unhinged, despite the empty promises he made. He can’t stay here. He has to go.

He’s worried about how his own body will respond to the enforced distance between them. But there is no time to worry now, especially if Ravus thinks they are all in danger. He is the High Commander of the army, and he wouldn’t abandon his post unless he thinks the situation is beyond his control. Ignis doesn’t know him well, but he knows one thing – he trusts Ravus.

Ignis takes his hand, and watches as Ravus’s larger hand with its slender, long fingers closes over his.

*

Ravus doesn’t let go of his hand the entire time they run, and Ignis realizes almost belatedly that he’s barely stepped out of his room the entire time. He was brought into his room the moment they arrived, and then they had taken him out for his punishment. His room had become his refuge, and he almost feared leaving it.

But the whole time the smell of sandalwood assaults his nose, and he is glad for it, because it seems to take the edge off his nerves, allowing him to concentrate on what they needed to do.

With his free hand, Ravus holds his sword in front of him, so it is at the ready. It is a beautiful sword, with an ornately carved hilt and a wickedly sharp edge. Ignis is about to pull from the Armiger when he remembers whose Armiger he pulls from now. He’s afraid that if he does it, Ardyn will know where he is, and what he is up to. He can’t call for the daggers unless they are in mortal danger.

So he keeps his hand firmly inside of Ravus’s and his eyes straight ahead.

The Keep is unnaturally silent and empty.

Not that Ignis doubts Ravus’s words, but it looks like he’s right. There’s something unsettling in the atmosphere, and that is even before he sees the trail of blood leading off one of the hallways they pass by. They make for the hangar, and their luck holds, because they are completely unmolested. There is a crimson dropship waiting for them and Ravus keeps pulling him along until they are safe inside of it.

Ravus makes it his first priority to get Ignis settled first, and Ignis is thankful for it. His nerves are frazzled, and his heart is pounding in his ears. Ravus shows him to a small bedroom, and puts him in an armchair. He crouches in front of Ignis, and asks, ‘Do you need to drink right now?’

Ignis shakes his head, a little puzzled, but he finds out why Ravus has made that offer almost instantly. The airship is taking to the air, and he can feel the hum of the engines below his feet. And somewhere deep inside of him, he feels that tenuous connection between him and his alpha strain, but unfortunately it doesn’t snap so easily.

It does send him into a frazzled anxiety. His heart is beating so loudly he can hear it in his ears, and his hands won’t stop shaking. Something deep in his loins stirs, and he can smell himself – that sweetness is almost sickly and excessive. It is his omega body calling out for his alpha, for assurance, for safety. It almost feels like his heat, minus the overwhelming agony, and he can still keep his wits about him, but barely.

His grip on the arms of the couch he is sitting in is so tight that he’s afraid his fingertips will melt into the fabric, but at least if his hands are glued to the arms he is not moving anywhere. He feels almost light-headed, and if he moves too much the room will simply spin crazily. He swallows, and then swallows again. That thirst that rises in his throat is his body’s way of telling him that he needs blood to stay calm. That is probably the reason why Ravus offered in the first place.

But Ignis already owes him too much. ‘I’m fine,’ he says shakily. Ravus has saved him – although from what, he doesn’t yet fully know. Ravus’s scent is very distracting, and he can tell Ignis is having the same effect on him too.

‘All right,’ Ravus says, and doesn’t push the point. ‘I’m going to speak to the commodore. Stay here, and make yourself comfortable.’ He walks away briskly, his spine stiff. He’s eager to get away from Ignis’s scent, which Ignis almost understands. An omega’s scent is powerful, designed to attract the protection and attention of alphas. It’s meant to be overwhelming.

He spends hours stuck in that seat, ice-cold sweat drenching his clothes as he fights his own body’s responses to the strained, increasingly distant connection. He registers the landing of the airship rather dimly, because he is gulping stale air into his constricting lungs.

There is a knock at his door, and Ignis can’t even answer. He can’t trust his own voice. He is trembling so hard that it is an effort to even keep upright. There is another knock, and Ignis tunes it out to focus on his own agony.

‘Ignis?’ Ravus’s voice filters through the door. He sounds concerned. ‘Ignis, may I come in?’

Ignis closes his eyes, and prays that he will not drop to the floor or start screaming. Ardyn is too far away. His alpha is too far from him now, and Ignis is not supposed to be here.

He can hear his alpha calling out to him.

They are both paralyzed, but still tethered to each other.

Ravus bursts in through the door, concerned etched on his face. ‘Ignis?’ He immediately sizes up the situation, and that smell of sandalwood intensifies. Ravus gets down on one knee in front of him, and lays a gentle hand on his trembling arm. ‘Ignis.’ Ravus’s voice is like a command as he presses his cut wrist to Ignis’s lips.

Ignis doesn’t even hesitate. He bites down so hard that Ravus actually groans at the unnecessarily sharp sting, and he drinks steadily, feeling some semblance of reason and calm flow back into him, carried into his body by the magic in Ravus’s blood.

He lets go when he feels his heart calm and the nerves slowly melt away. He licks at Ravus’s wrists, closing up the wound, but keeps holding his hand for a while longer. ‘Thank you.’

Ravus is so close to him that Ignis can feel the warmth from Ravus’s body. He is holding Ignis loosely, one hand on his mid-back as if to provide support as he feeds. He feels safe, when this alpha is standing so close to him.

He sags in his arms, but they don’t break eye contact.

Ignis closes his eyes as Ravus closes the distance between them as their lips meet. It is a soft, gentle peck rather than an actual kiss, as if he is testing the waters. Ignis curls his arm around Ravus’s neck, thankful that the tremors in his arm is gone, bringing him closer. But though the shakes and the fear are gone, something else has taken its place. Need, and want are flooding his stomach right now, and the way they both are producing their scents don’t help the situation.

‘Ignis, your scent …’ Ravus trails off, breathing deeply even as his forehead is pressed against Ignis’s temple.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ignis says.

‘Don’t apologize,’ Ravus says. ‘You have nothing to apologize for. Your scent … it’s beautiful. I’ve never, ever scented anything like this before. I should be the one apologizing for not being able to control myself. Could I just … could I just keep you close?’

Ignis seeks out his mouth again. He feels safe. Safe after the hell that he’s lived through the moment he set foot on Gralea. He wonders how long it will last, but decides not to think about it. ‘You can fuck me if you want,’ Ignis offers. There’s no difference. He’s let everyone fuck him for a while now. If this is the only way he can repay the man in front of him, then so be it.

Ravus visibly recoils. ‘No,’ he says stiltedly, almost angrily. ‘You don’t have to offer that, Ignis. I just want to keep you safe. I don’t particularly want anything from you.’ He shakes his head, as if clearing it. ‘Come on, we’ve arrived. Let me settle you in.’

‘Where are we?’ Ignis asks, letting Ravus help him to his feet.

‘Tenebrae,’ Ravus answers. ‘The ancestral seat of House Fleuret. Fenestala Manor is a fortified citadel, Ignis. We will be safe there.’

Ignis follows Ravus’s lead out of the airship and down a long path. The cool night wind blows at him, drying the sweat on him almost immediately. But he feels disgusting. His shirt is damp from sweat and goodness knows what else, and his pants are soaked from his slick. He doesn’t even want to look at his surroundings. All he wants is to get inside a room.

He only starts breathing when he is safely ensconced in a large, spacious bedroom, and after Ravus closes the door behind them. He immediately walks to the bath, and turns on the hot water taps. He doesn’t even wait for the water level to get halfway. He just shucks his clothes and slides into the water.

The boiling heat stings and reddens his skin, but it feels good. It feels clean, after everything that’s on him, inside of him. He curls up, watching the steam rise into the air. Ravus walks in, and sighs. He sticks a finger into the water and turns on the cold water taps as well.

Ignis closes his eyes, feeling the now-warm water rising all the way until it hits his ribs. Ravus hands him a washcloth, and Ignis starts scrubbing everything in sight until his skin is red and raw. He wants to scrub that scent of him – the one that smells like a forest on fire. He can feel that connection still under his skin, itching, pulling at him, niggling at him. Calling for him to return.

Does Ardyn know that he’s gone? He must. Does he know where Ignis is? He hopes not.

He feels calm, but scared, still. Ravus doesn’t touch him, but he does stay close at hand. The warm steam and sweet smell of sandalwood keeps him tethered to this reality, where he is safe. He is secure. No one is going to throw him onto the ground and fuck him senseless. If Ravus had any ill intentions with him, he would have done so a long time ago.

He feels his muscles unlock, one by one.

‘If you’re all right here, Ignis, I shall go speak to my sister,’ Ravus says. ‘I promise that I will be back soon.’

‘Your sister. The Oracle.’

‘Yes, the Oracle. Lunafreya. You are safe here. None shall harm you.’

‘Please stay with me,’ Ignis says.

Ravus gets back down on his knees. ‘Very well,’ he says. ‘Would you like to come with me to see my sister after you’re dressed?’

Not particularly, but Ignis does not want to be left alone. All he knows is that he wants to be close to that comforting alpha scent, which is doing a lot to quell the frantic noise inside of him. He simultaneously wants Ravus inside of him, and does not want it as well. So he settles for having the man close by. He does not mind if they do not touch.

Ignis feels no particular pressure to hurry, but as soon as he feels the slightest bit cleaner – in body, if not in soul – he walks out of the bath, water sluicing off him on his rapidly cooling skin. He won’t get dressed in that beloved but wrinkled blue shirt again, not if he has a choice. Ravus hands him a spare set of clothes that must be his, because it is at least two sizes too big for him. Ravus is a much larger man, so Ignis has to fold up the sleeves of that white shirt and the cuffs of his pants.

He pushes his hair back, unstyled. It hasn’t been styled since his arrival at Gralea. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he no longer recognizes the man that stares back at him. Physically, he looks the same as before. But there is something around the eyes – a darkness, a deep bitterness, a haunting emptiness – that has never been present before.

Ravus knocks lightly in front of a cream-colored door, and they walk into the Oracle’s bedroom.

Lunafreya gets up, and walks to Ignis. She envelops him in a warm, maternal hug, exuding a sweet smell of sage, and Ignis feels the rest of his loose muscles turn into a puddle. Without a doubt he knows now that he is safe, and no one else will touch him against his will.

‘Welcome to Tenebrae, Ignis,’ Lunafreya says, stroking gently against his cheeks. ‘I’m glad you’re here with us.’

An unbidden question appears in Ignis’s mind. It’s the last question he needs to be asking, but it hovers there like an uninvited, annoying guest anyway. And it feels like Ignis has forgotten how to be polite. Has Ardyn taken away his manners as well as his peace? ‘Lady Oracle, please excuse my impolite question. Years ago, you prophesied that the Coven of Bahamut would manifest an omega. But you were wrong.’

Lunafreya’s gaze dims into sadness. ‘To announce to the world that they had two would be inviting trouble, I thought. One omega is good news, two omegas is a call for war. I am truly sorry for the way things turned out, Ignis. I thought you would be happier if you didn’t know.’

Ignis considered this. ‘I was,’ he admits. ‘I was happy.’ It was true. Ignorance had been bliss. He had been safer not knowing. Although, would it be better if he had known and could have prepared for it, at least mentally?

He presses his hand to his face and sit down in the chair they give him. ‘Why … why am I here?’

‘My sister saw that there would be danger and bloodshed in Gralea. She sent a message to me just as Ardyn began his rampage. I saw with my own eyes that he couldn’t be stopped. Vampire or MT, he simply didn’t care. He slaughtered all of them wholesale, and I cut my losses and ran. There is a … madness in his eyes,’ Ravus finished.

‘I saw it,’ Ignis says. ‘The starscourge has overwhelmed him.’ He steadfastly refuses to remember the unspeakable things that Ardyn has done to him. ‘We have to stop him.’

‘I don’t know if we can. But we can slow him down.’

‘How?’ Ignis asks.

‘You already have,’ Lunafreya says. ‘He feels the same strain that you feel when you left Gralea.’

Astrals above, that horrid feeling. Was Ardyn feeling it too?

‘We are hoping that it will temporarily incapacitate him, long enough for us to evacuate as many citizens as we can. The ones inside the Keep are as good as lost, I’m afraid,’ Ravus pronounces grimly. ‘If he stays inside the Keep, we will be safe.’

‘But if he doesn’t?’ Ignis asks.

‘Then we deal with it as it comes,’ Lunafreya answers simply.

‘All right,’ Ignis says shakily.

All he knows now is that he is safe, and that is all he needs to concentrate on.


	19. Quietude

The gardens in Fenestala Manor is the most beautiful thing he has seen, bar none.

The manor itself is rather aesthetically impressive. Surrounded by lush greenery and flanked by rocky mountains, it is literally a castle in the sky with its connecting bridges that lead to different parts of the city. The climate is temperate, and the night sky is beautiful.

Under the moonlight, the bright blue sylleblossoms in full bloom seem to light up like a starry blue path. This is where he spends most of his waking hours now, sitting on that wooden bench that faces the gardens, surrounded by the sweet, spicy fragrance of the flowers. It masks his own vanilla scent rather well, and when he can’t smell himself, he won’t panic.

It’s been a week since their hurried arrival in Tenebrae, and most of the time he’s left alone. Ravus and Lunafreya are busy rallying their people and setting up defenses in case what’s left of the destroyed Niflheim army decides to breach the castle. Ravus is working to turn higher-ranking officers into his service – the ones that are still alive anyway, and Lunafreya and Commodore Highwind are coordinating the refugees that are leaving Gralea in droves. Ardyn has holed himself up in Zegnautus Keep, and has done nothing since then.

No one speaks to Ignis, save for Ravus and Lunafreya, and he prefers it that way.

He finds out that Lunafreya is the head of the Coven of Shiva, and the de facto leader of the Tenebraeans in Ravus’s absence. But now that he is back, he does not seem particularly interested in taking over from his sister. When Ignis sees them interact though, he has no doubts whatsoever that they share a warm, loving relationship.

He thinks to himself, someone as gentle and loving as Ravus cannot possibly do him harm, right? And that it is safe for him to stay with Ravus.

On good days he can simply stay inside his own mind, ignoring that terrible itching under his skin. He can drink sensibly from Ravus’s wrist and not go overboard, even politely thanking him afterwards. But on bad days … he tries not to think of them.

Two days ago every cell in his body was screaming at him to return to his alpha, and he had followed the call just to get the voices in his head to stop. He managed to get halfway down one of the bridges leading out of the manor before Ravus caught on, caught up to him. He had to pin Ignis to the ground, forcing him to drink in order to calm him down and bring him back to his senses.

He feels Ardyn calling for him. Always, always. Every second of the day.

And he spends every second fighting against the connection. Sometimes he succeeds, sometimes … less so. Sometimes not at all, and he trusts Ravus to come after him when that happens.

In the early hours just before dawn of every day, it becomes a habit for Ravus to come into his room, and they will share a polite meal together. Some human food, which Ignis finds so comforting, and then Ravus offers his wrist. Some days when they are a little more intimate with each other, Ravus will offer his neck instead. But no matter which way, Ignis always takes it, without fail. Ignis has tried to reciprocate, but Ravus always politely rejects him, with the excuse that it is easier for him to obtain fresh blood.

Then Ravus will stay with him, his arms curled around Ignis, and they sleep. But when he awakens the next evening, he is always alone in bed.

The itch under his skin is always there. But one night, it becomes worse, and his body feels fatigued, and is burning up so unbearably that he has to strip down to his skin and lay against the cool sheets of his bed. On that day, he can’t even venture out to he garden. Ravus finds him writhing and moaning in pain on the bed.

‘What’s wrong, Ignis?’ Ravus asks, his broad hands cool and calming as they lay against his feverish skin.

‘I don’t know …’ Ignis says, and his muscles are sore and trembling and slick is running down in streams on his thighs, sticky and sweet against the sheets. The whole room smells like him, and he hates it. ‘I’m burning up. I feel like I’m dying.’

Ravus bends closer. ‘I might be wrong, Ignis. But you smell like you’re in heat.’

Ignis lifts his head. ‘It can’t be. I had my heat … maybe a month ago. I’m bonded. That means it should only happen once a year. It can’t be.’

‘If the bond is too unstable or if the omega doesn’t feel safe, this can happen. The heat is your body telling you that something’s wrong, and it needs to be righted. Shit. We should have expected this, Ignis. Are you all right?’

Ignis pulls himself into a sitting position. ‘I’m all right for now. But if it’s anything like the last time, I won’t be fine at all in a few days. It’s like losing your mind, Ravus. I can’t do it. Not now.’

‘Then let me find a way to help you. There are things like heat suppressants, pain killers. I’ll find a way. Lunafreya will know. Let me speak to her.’

‘All right,’ Ignis says. ‘Please hurry.’

‘I will.’ Ravus leaves him as abruptly as he has arrived.

But the moment Ravus leaves, Ignis proceeds to lose his mind. Once his strong alpha scent has dissipated from the room, all Ignis can sense is the emptiness that shrouds him like a suffocating hug, and that itch grows so strong that he can’t even see straight.

‘Ardyn,’ he says, the words dripping out of his mouth involuntarily. ‘Alpha, where are you?’ The omega inside of him sees the opportunity, and takes it. He starts spasming, his core aching and sore, yearning for completion. Its call for his mate is the most humiliating thing he’s done, including the shit that he’s been forced to do while in the Keep. Nothing compares to this – when his own body actually betrays him and calls for the poison that he’s supposed to wean himself off.

He finds himself getting on his feet, moving blindly in search of the alpha mate he left behind. With some horror, he realizes it’s like having an out of body experience. His mind is not in control over his own body. He still retains some sense to pull on his discarded clothes – a blue shirt that has the sleeves rolled up. He doesn’t even button himself up.

Then he walks out the door. His bare feet pad along the cool tiles, steadily and purposefully, seemingly ignoring their owner’s reluctance. That siren’s call to fulfill his heat is all-encompassing, and he walks down the hallway and down the stairs. Then he walks out of the back door to the garden.

When the overpowering smell of the sylleblossoms hits him, it’s like a slap to the face. The crisp night air certainly helps to cool his head, and Ignis’s breathing becomes ragged as he keeps traipsing along the path even though his brain is doing everything in its power to stop him.

Then blessedly, he does stop. In mid-step, just along the walking path. With a deep breath, he tries to guide himself to the wooden bench, but he doesn’t even get there. Instead, he just crumbles to his knees, and then all fours. And he simply stays there.

Fat, wild raindrops drip into his hair, and drench his clothes. He hasn’t even realized that it is raining, considering how focused he was on halting his journey. But the rain feels good on him. He lets the deluge wash away all the agony, paying particular attention to the way rain beats against his back.

He rolls onto his back, letting the rain assault his face. There’s almost a meditative quality to what he is doing, and he takes deep breaths and counts each one of them. He doesn’t know how long he is out there for, in this position. Half an hour, perhaps.

He breathes deeply. He can win this battle with the omega inside of him, and he is the master of his own destiny. He will not let his biology once again dictate what he’s supposed to do. His will is ultimately what will prevail, he vows to himself.

The garden is truly beautiful. He doesn’t mind dying here, not if he is surrounded by the deep scent of the beautiful sylleblossoms.

The shade of the sylleblossoms remind him too much of the blue eyes of the prince that he has left behind. How is Noctis, he wonders dully. Is he happy? Never mind that, it doesn’t matter, as long as he is safe. Does he still think about Ignis at all, or has he moved on?

Prompto had been so excited to fulfill his own omega destiny. Is he perhaps carrying Noctis’s child right now? Is he filled with a deep contentment and joy with the knowledge that he is carrying life inside of him?

And where is Gladiolus? Is he as steadfast as ever, standing by Noctis’s side? Does he miss his best friend? They used to stay up until the early hours of dawn over a shared beer, followed by a sly kiss or two. Does he lie awake in bed thinking of those lost moments, now forever consigned to live in his memory?

Ignis presses his palms against his eyes. The rain is suddenly too warm, and they sting his eyes.

Where is Ardyn now? Is he hiding inside the Keep, thinking of his bonded omega that ran away when all he asked was for Ignis to stay by his side? Is he still the man who healed the others of the starscourge, or has the scourge destroyed what was left of his humanity?

There is a small, tentative touch at his shoulder, and Ignis opens his eyes.

The man in front of him is Ravus. Ignis stares at him. He is kneeling on the wet, muddy ground, and the tails of his usually immaculate white coat are rain-soaked and tracked in mud. But his fingertips feel nice on Ignis’s fevered skin.

There is only concern in his eyes. And kindness, perhaps. He must be a kind person in order to do what he has done so far. Serving the empire so he can keep his sister safe, and saving Ignis multiple times by putting his own safety on the line. And he hasn’t asked for anything from him so far.

‘You said back in Gralea that you don’t want used goods,’ Ignis says, apropos of nothing.

But Ravus seems to understand that he’s in a mood. ‘I did,’ he answers neutrally.

‘You called me used goods. Leftovers. Cast offs.’

‘I did,’ Ravus says, so neutrally that he is refusing to give Ignis the ammunition for his anger.

‘Why?’

‘You know why,’ Ravus says levelly. ‘Demonstrating any level of interest in someone else’s omega is just asking for trouble. And Ardyn is the type of sadist who will capitalize on the smallest weakness.’

‘But you don’t think I’m …’

‘No,’ Ravus says. ‘No.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Ignis says resignedly. ‘It’s all true anyway. They used me like I was nothing.’ He thinks of Drautos rutting into him, Ardyn fucking into him. Even Ravus had touched him, although who had been using who then, he didn’t know. Was it fair to blame Ravus for something Ignis wanted him to do? In fact, given him no choice over?

‘You’re not nothing,’ Ravus says it so matter-of-factly that Ignis knows that there is no falsehood in his belief.

‘Maybe. I’m constantly terrified,’ Ignis says. ‘I never used to be like this. Nothing scared me. Nothing. Now I’m afraid of everything.’

Ravus’s gaze shutters over. ‘You’ve been through … a lot, Ignis. It’s natural to have those feelings, but I urge you to be kind to yourself.’

‘I don’t know how to,’ Ignis admits, and it comes out a helpless sob. ‘I feel like … they took everything from me. My strength. My will. My dignity. They broke me.’

Ravus moves a little closer to Ignis, so his bowed head is blocking out the worst of the rain away from Ignis’s face. ‘They haven’t broken you, and you can heal. It will take time and will perhaps be insurmountably difficult, but you’re a consummate survivor. If it gets too hard … I’m here for you. I will help you in any way you will let me, Ignis.’

Ignis looks up at him. ‘Why?’

Ravus doesn’t say anything for a while. ‘I don’t know why,’ he admits. ‘Something about you … compels me.’

He feels a spurt of disappointment. ‘The omega inside of me, you mean.’

‘Perhaps,’ Ravus says. ‘Alphas are driven to protect omegas, that much is true. But our biology is merely a part of the whole. It does not define who we are. I may be the prince of Tenebrae, or an alpha, or the High Commander, but above all that, I am Ravus. And no matter what they’ve done to you, you are Ignis. And you are beautiful, and unbreakable.’

‘I don’t know if I have the strength,’ Ignis says so brokenly and so quietly that for a moment he thinks that Ravus has not heard him. But then Ravus gently takes Ignis’s hand inside of his bigger ones, and presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

‘If you do not have it in you, then I’ll lend you my strength. If you have to lean on me, then do so. If you have to cry, I’m here. I’ll take care of you for as long as you let me.’

Ignis’s breath hitches. The tears that flow out of his eyes feel like a cleansing flood.

And the whole time, Ravus simply holds his hand.

When it is over, when he feels more in control of himself again, he lifts his arms.

Ravus slides one hand behind his back, and another around his thighs, and picks him up like he weighs nothing.

It feels safe. It feels good.

It feels right. Ignis closes his eyes and presses his cheek against Ravus’s chest.


	20. Reforging

The following week is practically hell on Eos for him.

But he is so very thankful for his ability to retain his mind despite the agony and thirst of the heat. Ravus has managed to procure heat suppressants, a variation of rutting suppressants, and while it works, it’s not exactly sophisticated. It works well enough for something so rudimentary, and takes the worst edge off. He can still feel his skin heating, and he constantly feels like he is burning.

He is thirsty for blood all the time, which Ravus and even Lunafreya help by providing him with fresh blood from their bodies. He is thankful for the magic in their blood – blessed by the Astral Shiva, their pure blood is able to sustain him in his fight against the savaging power of his omega heat. A heat, without his bonded alpha.

He has to be thankful that he is still alive despite it all.

He insists on riding out the heat without any alpha knots at all. It will help, there’s no doubt about it, but he doesn’t want Ravus to do it for him. It’s not even that he finds Ravus’s touch appalling, in fact, it is the exact opposite. There is something brewing between the both of them, and Ignis does not want his heat to muddle up this beautiful, slow-blooming thing. It is the sweetest thing he has in his life right now. It is to be treasured, and the last thing he needs is to have Ravus fuck him while he is completely inebriated and unable to form a single coherent sentence.

He spends the entire week curled into the sheets, sweating and leaking slick into the mattress. Crying and sobbing as quietly as he can until the pain and agony drives him into unconsciousness. The sheets are now an irretrievable mess, and he is laying in it, but he can feel the moment the heat begins to recede. His mind clears a little more, and the pain in his limbs dulls to a throbbing soreness rather than an outright ache. He breathes easier too, and sleeps much better.

By the time he rises on the eighth night, he has the werewithal to actually have a shower, pull on his clothes, and put on his glasses. It feels good. But he has overestimated his energy, and ends up on the sofa with a glass of water in hand. Minute by minute, the barbaric grip of his heat is relinquishing its fingers over him, and he feels more and more like himself again.

He wants to go down to the bench in the sylleblossom garden, but he’s afraid he won’t make it that far.

Ravus walks in, as immaculate as usual in his white and purple coat, and boots that click crisply against the tiles. ‘Good evening, Ignis,’ he says quietly. He looks a bit surprised that Ignis is out of bed and on the couch, before realizing belatedly that Ignis’s heat is mostly over now. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Like I’ve been stomped on,’ Ignis says, just as Ravus opens up the windows for cross-ventilation, and eyes the mess on the bed. ‘I’ll get it soon,’ Ignis continues wearily.

But Ravus simply walks to the bed and begins to strip the sheets. And Ignis feels a spurt of gratitude at the way the man is taking care of him. Just like he promised. The remnants of his omega scent must be terribly distracting. It smells like a candy factory in here. Sweet, burnt sugar that hovers stickily in the air.

When Ravus finally sits down on the couch, Ignis turns to him. Ravus rolls back the cuff of his coat sleeve, exposing his wrist, as has been his habit for the past seven days, but today Ignis clamps his hand down on that exposed wrist.

‘No,’ Ignis says. ‘I want something else today.’

‘What is it?’ Ravus asks, his gaze dropping to Ignis’s parted lips.

Ignis closes the distance between them by leaning in close, and waits until Ravus bridges the final inch between them.

The first touch between them is electrifying. There’s no other way to describe it. Ignis feels like a rusty, old engine that has been jumpstarted. There is an unspoken, unfathomable bond between them, something to do with the way their bodies call to each other, but perhaps something beyond that too. Something bigger, something more to do with his heart than anything else.

Ravus’s hand comes up to the back of Ignis’s neck, and the other stays somewhere around his back. Ignis is still holding the glass of water between his hands, but his body is leaning into Ravus’s warm embrace. Ignis’s tongue is tentative as he licks into Ravus’s mouth, probing, exploring. And then he realizes instantly that he wants more.

He pulls back a little, and checks for Ravus’s response. The man’s heterochromatic eyes are both half-lidded in a haze of desire, and Ignis knows for sure now that Ravus wants him. But he almost needs to hear it. ‘What do you want to do with me?’ Ignis asks, tracing Ravus’s lips with a single finger.

‘If I start verbalizing them, I’m afraid I’m not going to stop.’ Ravus’s voice is roughened with want.

Ignis presses a soft peck to those lips again, and pulls away before Ravus can devour him whole. ‘Tell me anyway.’

‘I want you … out of my clothes,’ Ravus says, then hooks a finger in the waistband of Ignis’s pants. His hand wanders down, under his shirt, and gently strokes Ignis’s bare skin. ‘I want to see all of your body in its naked glory. Open, and wet, and writhing under my touch. I want to make you scream until you lose your mind, and just before you come, I want my name on your lips.’

Ignis moans a little when that lewd image is stuck in his head. He quite likes it, and he likes the stirring in his loins when Ravus’s voice flows through him seductively. He can hear Ravus’s desire for him – genuine desire for Ignis, and not only just because he is an omega and this is the natural order of things. He wants Ignis for himself, not out of darkness or possession or obsession, but because they’ve come to have feelings for each other.

‘But that’s what I want. More importantly, what do you want?’ Ravus asks, his lips hovering close to Ignis’s collarbone, and he blows a warm, gentle breath on it that makes Ignis shudder.

Very carefully Ignis sets the glass on the table, because he doesn’t want it spilling over them in the heat of the moment. Then he runs his hand over Ravus’s beautifully aristocratic profile, over that aquiline nose, that taut jaw. Ravus has been an anchor in the storm for him, so is this merely transference of his feelings, or is he wanting more?

Or maybe it doesn’t matter anyway. He wants this more than anything, so he takes it.

’I want you,’ Ignis says, and then presses an almost punishing kiss onto Ravus’s lips, who opens up to him and lets Ignis set the pace to their dance.

He unbuttons his own shirt – Ravus’s shirt, a snowy white shirt that clings to his every curve. It is a size smaller than what he is used to, and Ravus explained it is an old shirt from when he was still on the cusp of adulthood. It fits him perfectly, and he watches Ravus drink up the sight of his naked torso. Then Ignis unbuckles his belt, and his pants. Slowly, slowly, taking his time. Ravus does not seem to be in a hurry.

Then his fingers drift over to Ravus, and he takes his time helping Ravus out of his cumbersome layers as well.

Ignis looks at Ravus, at every sinewy curve, every muscle. His build actually rather resembles Ignis’ more than anyone else’s, out of all the men he’s known. Slender yet muscular, lanky and lean. But there is also something inherently powerful in those understated muscles, and Ignis can feel the coiled strength inside them when he grips the man’s biceps and levers himself onto the man’s lap.

The room, despite the open windows, begin to thicken with the scent of vanilla and sandalwood. It almost smells like they are burning incense inside the room. His own cock is waiting rather slyly, and the slick is oozing down his thighs, and subsequently down Ravus’s. He uses it to glide languidly against the man, and they both gasp in tandem when their hard erections brush against each other.

Ravus kisses him, and Ignis leans into the sensations. Their chests are flush, and Ignis really likes the feeling of their bare skins rubbing up against each other. He’s so wet that his thighs are sopping, and he doesn’t even need to open himself up. He simply arches up his body until Ravus’s cock is lined up at his entrance, and he impales himself, tearing a deep gasp from inside of his chest.

Ravus holds him still at his waist, and Ignis holds onto the man’s shoulders for leverage, and then fucks down. It feels so unbearably good, the sensation of being filled, and he wonders if it is because he is at the tail end of his heat. Every clench of his muscles around that large cock inside of him brings him untold pleasure. And that is even before Ravus adjusts the angle slightly and moves in tandem with Ignis, and suddenly the world opens up to him from the nub of pleasure when Ravus’s cock nudges against it.

He gasps and whimpers, but his thighs seem to have a mind of his own, riding Ravus until the both of them are breathless and light-headed. The desire for completion drives him to push his burning muscles until every cell in his body goes still, his back arches and the orgasm is wrenched out of him along with a scream.

He collapses against Ravus, his forehead resting on the man’s broad shoulder. For once, he feels good instead of dirty, something to be used and discarded without a moment’s thought. Ravus has allowed him to take the lead, so he can exercise his agency. The intention is not lost on him, and Ignis can’t even put his gratitude in words. He merely holds onto the man.

Ignis bares his throat for once, and Ravus only hesitates for a very short while before he bites into the fragile flesh. He can tell that Ravus is a careful drinker – slow and deliberate, and Ignis only relaxes into his hold. It has been too long since he has allowed anyone to voluntarily feed from him. Who had it been? Noctis? Gladiolus? Prompto? He no longer remembers.

It seems like so long ago.

Offering blood is a huge act of trust on his part, and he knows that Ravus knows it. All this time their blood sharing has not been entirely reciprocal, but Ignis wanted to wait until he felt truly ready.

Ravus doesn’t take much at all, compared to what Ignis have been taking from him the past few weeks. When he is done, he continues stroking the side of Ignis’s neck where he has drank from, and holds Ignis in his arms.

*

The nights are a little easier after that, especially when he goes to sleep in Ravus’s arms and wakes up still safely ensconced.

True to his word, Ravus has been there when Ignis has needed him. Ignis wants for nothing, and he focuses all his energies in healing from his ordeal. Of course it is much easier said than done. He still has some very bad days, days that his behavior become so pathetic and abhorrent he is more than eager to rid himself of that memory. Some days it only takes one wrong word, one touch interpreted wrongly and his entire body shakes so hard it’s like having a seizure. But on his better days, he can simply curl up with Ravus and banish the voices from his head. Even smile, and laugh.

He looks forward to those days the most.

But less than a month later, he starts feeling that itch under his skin again. It can’t be, he thinks with some disbelief. It can’t be. He doesn’t believe it at first, but is calm enough to think about it logically. Ravus mentioned once that heats can trigger more often when the bond is unstable. And that is something he can’t deny.

The bond between him and Ardyn is volatile and violent – he despises the man with a passion, and he has no doubt to the feelings that Ardyn has for him. And yet they have been forced into this bond, and now are additionally strained by a distance. Ignis is doing everything he can to fight his own biology, and his body is punishing him for it. A monthly heat? He can’t fucking believe it. He’s so angry that for a moment he’s tempted to plunge a dagger into his own heart.

He waits until Ravus comes to visit him in the early hours of midnight as is his habit. He makes Ravus a drink, and then waits until the man is comfortable. Then he hits him expressionlessly with the facts, and watches as Ravus’s own features become more and more concerned as Ignis keeps explaining.

There is a heavy silence in the air when he finishes.

Ignis doesn’t blame him. The fact that his heat is happening again in less than a month is like a fucking slap in the face.

‘I can get you heat suppressants again, if you wish,’ Ravus offers. ‘But it is clear that it’s only a short term solution to an ongoing problem. I’m guessing from your expression you’ve discarded this idea already.’

Ignis nods his head, then leans forward, elbows on knees. He doesn’t even want to look at Ravus when he says his next words. ‘There are a couple of viable options here. One, I break the soul bond that I have with … him. Two –’

‘You form a soul bond with me,’ Ravus finishes for him, and Ignis feels the tension leaking out of him like a deflating balloon. Ravus cottons on quickly so Ignis doesn’t have to spell it out for him.

‘You understand the implications of the second option,’ Ignis points out.

‘I understand the implications to both options,’ Ravus says instead. ‘And I think there’s only one way forward. The first is an unknown danger, and you risk a certain death. The mechanics of bond-breaking is nowhere as clear as forming one, and I think you’re unnecessarily risking yourself. The second one … I believe you have my answer.’

‘If we bond, Ravus, we will have a child together,’ Ignis says, a little surprised that Ravus doesn’t seem remotely perturbed by this possibility. ‘It’s something that will seal our destinities together.’ It will mean that they will have to be with each other for the rest of their lives, barring any complications. Ignis isn’t sure this is what Ravus wanted or expected when he saved Ignis from Ardyn’s grasp. He was only being kind, and it’s a terrible reward to be forced into an unwanted bond.

‘Is that … a problem?’ Ravus tightens his lips just a fraction, the hand holding his glass deadly still.

’You have been exceedingly kind to me, Ravus. But kindness has limits. You shouldn’t have to be roped into a bond out of necessity rather than any real want.’

Ravus’s eyes widen a little, in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s a lifetime commitment, Ravus. And do you really want to be bonded to an omega who currently holds a soul bond with a fucking immortal psychopath?’

Ravus shrugs. ‘It’s not Ardyn that I’m bonding with.’

‘I’m … damaged, Ravus. You know that.’

‘It doesn’t make you less of a person, Ignis, and you know it. Don’t use it as an excuse, it’s unbecoming of you.’

‘But-’

‘There’s no buts about it,’ Ravus says almost sternly. ‘Ignis, it isn’t feasible nor possible for us to break the existing bond right now, not when we’re this close to your heat. It’s simply unwise to inflict trauma on your body right now when it’s on the cusp of a difficult biological process. Unless you want to be sweating and crying with another dose of heat suppressants that does nothing for the pain, then this is the only way forward. I refuse to watch you do that again. With a stable bond, we can regulate your heats and keep you from feeling like you constantly need to go back to him. ’

‘I don’t want you doing this because the circumstances are forced upon us.’

Ravus puts down his glass with a soft clink. ‘Oh, my darling Ignis. Have I been unclear about my intentions? My dear, there is nothing I desire more than to be your mate, to protect you and my child at all costs. If that is causing your hesitation, then let me leave you in no doubt of my feelings.’ He plants his mouth on Ignis’s, and it is so hotly possessive, so full of want and _love_ that it sends a shiver down Ignis’s spine.

‘I want you think about it for a little longer,’ Ignis insists. ‘I think we’re a few days out from the heat. There’s plenty of time yet.’

Ravus gently strokes Ignis’s hair. ‘All right, I’ll think about it,’ he says, in a voice that says that he has already made up his mind.


	21. Heat

Ignis wakes up, cold sweat dripping down his back, drenching him entirely. His first sensation is chilliness, and his second is fear. The closer his heat, the more his mind loses control of his omega body. He has yet to forge a bond with Ravus, because despite what Ravus says, Ignis wants to give him a choice. He wants to force him to think about the implications of bonding. Ignis has already forced a bond on someone else out of instinct and fear and agony, to disasatrous consequences.

He counts to ten in his head, as is his way of escaping the grip of madness lately. He tells his body rather sternly that it will not rule him. He is the master of his own destiny, and his inner omega will not fight him in a bid to get back to his bonded alpha. He has flashes of Ardyn and Glauca in him, on him. Hurting him. He wills those images out of his mind.

It helps that Ravus’s strong, muscular body is wrapped around his, his arm curled over Ignis’s waist. Ignis blinks his eyes open, and settles into the scent that Ravus is radiating. He’s definitely come to enjoy this scent, because when he smells it, it means that Ravus is nearby.

It is nearly dark, and the itching under his skin is getting much, much worse. It’s more like an ache than anything now, and it’s becoming increasingly less peripheral and more like the focus of his attention. He senses the moment Ravus wakes up, because that alpha scent becomes more powerful and Ravus shifts a little, before pressing a kiss to the side of Ignis’s neck. ‘Good evening.’

The agony and fear begin to melt away, as if it had never been there at all. He knows it will be back later, so he makes it a point to live in the present.

‘Hello,’ Ignis says, and out of habit, he arches his back and pushes his ass up against Ravus’s front, eliciting that sharp, sudden gasp from the man. Ignis enjoys this. He enjoys riling Ravus up and driving him insane with desire and he likes it when Ravus takes him hard, from behind, the front, any which way that involves Ravus inside of him.

‘Would you like to go on a hunt with me?’ Ravus asks.

‘No, thank you,’ Ignis answers. He still doesn’t really like to venture outside of his room. The farthest he will go is the garden. Ravus doesn’t push him. ‘I feel like my heat is close.’

‘Would you like me to stay with you instead?’

‘No, no,’ Ignis answers. ‘Go on your hunt, but … stay close if you could?’

‘I will. Rest, Ignis.’

Ignis misses the hunt, but he genuinely hates walking out of his room unless he’s going to the garden. There’s just something inherently safe about the closed door and him being confined within the four walls of the room.

He soaks himself in a warm bath, while the attendants outside are putting on additional sheets and blankets on the bed in preparation for his incoming heat. He drinks a couple of glasses of water, because he knows he’s likely to sweat it all out. 

And when he’s done, he crawls into the fresh sheets that smell of floral detergent, tosses his glasses over to the bedside table. Then he simply focuses on his breathing. He’s somewhere around eight hundred when he hears the door open. The smell of sandalwood assaults his nostrils, and he rises to a sitting position. ‘Ravus.’

Ravus crosses the room, removing his white coat and draping it over the armchair before sliding into the bed with Ignis.

Ignis breathes in his scent, and suddenly, he feels like he’s made a decision. He’s ready. ‘Ravus,’ he says. ‘I want it. I want it now. Before my heat gets here and my mind gets all fucked up.’

Ravus runs a gentle hand down his cheek. ‘All right.’

‘Do you … are you … sure you want this?’

‘Without the shadow of a doubt,’ Ravus says. ‘Thank you.’

Ignis looks up. ‘For what?’

‘For this gift,’ Ravus says, and lets Ignis pull the rest of his clothes off.

They tumble onto the mattress, and Ignis lands with a loud thump against his back, knocking the wind out of him. Ravus kisses him, gentle and soft, his hands stroking Ignis’s chest and toying with his nipples. But Ignis isn’t in the mood for that. He wants it hard and fast, and he wants it done because all he wants is the sensation of being a safely bonded omega. He’s tired of all this fear and unease.

He hooks his legs around Ravus’s hips and drag him down, thrusting against him, keening for something inside of him. Perhaps his heat has already arrived, Ignis thinks. All the more reason to hurry this up, because he doesn’t want to be a senseless animal when he bonds with this beautiful man.

He’s so wet, and he’s ready. He guides Ravus into himself, and then fucks himself down until Ravus takes over and sets up a brutal rhythm that has him flopping back, entire body arching up to meet that primal instinct. The orgasm rips through him, and he rears up violently, and sinks his teeth into Ravus’s jugular. And then he drinks.

The rush of sweet blood into his mouth is compounded by the distinct realization that Ravus has come inside of him at the same time, and as soon as Ravus is able to gather himself he swiftly bites down on Ignis’s exposed neck.

He sees all of Ravus’s life flashing in his own mind – his deep, loving bond with his sister Lunafreya, his overwhelming need to protect her that takes him to Niflheim, the hatred and resentment he gets from the Graleans at his presence, the names and insults he’s had to put up with as he climbs the military ladder to High Commander, his sheer dislike of Ardyn and the emperor, his frustration with himself. Ravus has allowed him to see everything inside of him, and Ignis feels the drive to give Ravus the same.

He closes his eyes and lets his own history in Lucis flow into Ravus – and most importantly, the men he holds in his heart. He needs Ravus to know that they are there, and they will be there for a long time to come, perhaps forever. Ravus sees, and accepts.

Inside of his chest, Ignis finds that thread inside his core and connects it to the magic that is flowing through him. He follows it back to Ravus, and can sense the moment the bond snaps together. He doesn’t even have time to brace against the pain – he simply flails and fights through it, convulsing through the entire feed until he can’t even hold himself up anymore, each strobe of light burning every cell in his body and he collapses screaming against Ravus’s chest. Ravus might have fed a short time ago, but he looks pale and shaken as the final vestiges of pain passes out from his system.

They are draped on each other, loosely holding hands until they are able to form words again. Ignis tips his chin up, and Ravus kisses him. ‘I love you,’ Ravus whispers. ‘Thank you. Thank you for bonding with me.’

There is no need for Ravus to thank him, but Ignis knows how much of a privilege it is. He instantly knows that he’s made a good decision, and the peace that suffuses his soul is so hard won and soothing it almost brings tears to his eyes.

He didn’t realize how much noise he had been living with and how loud it had been in the background with those voices constantly calling to him to return to his alpha, but it’s like it has suddenly shut off and all he hears is a sweet, blessed silence. If he listens closely, he can still hear it a little, but for now his omega body is perfectly pleased with the fact that his bonded alpha is physically close to him and enveloping him in a comforting warmth.

Ignis’s heart is drenched with love, and he refuses to think of three other men that he had once pledged his heart to. But that wasn’t meant to be. And it feels good to have someone loving him. Ignis was rather certain that he could grow to adore Ravus one day. His feelings were already blossoming, and he is doing nothing to stop its natural progression.

Ignis rolls a little to meet Ravus halfway, and for their lips to meet again.

Despite the fact that they literally fucked a few minutes ago, there is an itch stirring inside of him, and he knows that he needs a knot, and he needs it quick. He’s already begun the transition into his heat, and soon he will lose his mind. For now, he wants to relish the knowledge that he’s alert, he’s not in pain, and he feels strong and confident.

‘Alpha,’ Ignis practically purrs into Ravus’s mouth, and he likes the way Ravus instinctively tightens those arms around him, as if he is using Ignis for support as well because it’s so hard to fight against that omega voice when it’s so commanding and powerful. ‘Knot me.’

Ravus slips his iron-hard cock into Ignis’s slippery hole, and Ignis clenches his muscles tightly around the man. Then he lets his body move accordingly to Ravus’s desires. And then breathes with a deep sigh of relief as Ravus comes inside of him and his knot blooms.

It hurts a little, at first, because it is filling up all of him. He feels incredibly full, and the way they are stuck together takes a little getting used to at first. But when Ravus adjusts the both of them so he is spooning Ignis from behind, it isn’t so bad at all.

He’s only had two heats so far, and it was nowhere like this. He likes this. A heat isn’t so bad at all, so long as he has his alpha on hand, ready and willing and caring.

Ignis closes his eyes, and surrenders to his heat. He has no fear inside of him, and he knows he will once again surmount the pain, but this time, with Ravus by his side.

*

He emerges from his heat three days later – well-fed, clear-headed, bright-eyed, and practically bow-legged.

Ravus had kept his promises to take care of Ignis – he had ensured that Ignis always had access to his blood, ensured that he was clean and well-rested, and he stayed close for whenever Ignis needed him. He gave Ignis everything and at the end of the heat, he was the one who looked like he needed a week’s sleep.

Ignis had laughed at the man, in a fond manner. Ravus had probably been a little over-solicitious in his first go as a bonded alpha, but Ignis was appreciative of the efforts nonetheless. He let Ravus sleep for longer after his heat, and refrained from taking blood from the man.

For the first time in months, he was confident enough to venture out to common areas, his invisible badge of honor shielding him from his own insecurities. The attendants were all lovely and polite, seemingly over the moon over the fact that their master had bonded with an omega.

Lunafreya gave him an encouraging smile, and he bowed to her in gratitude. As the coven leader, she would have had to give her permission for Ravus and Ignis to mate. ‘Welcome to the Coven of Shiva,’ she said, and hugged him.

Ignis had never known anyone who belonged to three different covens. He supposed he was probably the first. ‘Thank you.’

Lunafreya patted his shoulder reassuringly. ‘You are safe here, omega. And we are very thankful to you, and this gift that you are bringing to us.’

Ignis understands immediately. His hand drops instinctively down to his flat tummy, and he feels a sweet wash of joy at the life that he is carrying inside of him. ‘How do you know?’ Ignis asks.

Lunafreya taps her nose. ‘You smell very different now,’ she says.

When he presses Ravus for a description, the normally very eloquent Ravus sniffs at his neck, and says rather succinctly, ‘Like aged vanilla. Very thick and rich. Sweet. Fragrant.’ And that’s when Ravus belatedly realizes that Ignis is now carrying his child. The quietly pleased look on his face and the way that he holds Ignis’s hand for a little longer warms Ignis’s heart.

And that is how he begins his new life in Tenebrae.

But that fragile peace doesn’t last very long at all. It is broken one day when Lunafreya and Ravus receives news that there is a Lucian entourage en route to Gralea now that empire has fallen. Presumbly to retrieve Ignis, Ravus explains calmly to Ignis one evening. The news has come through via their allies, the Coven of Leviathan based in Altissia.

An entourage led by the King of Lucis.

Why would Regis come after him? It makes no sense.

Ignis looks to Ravus for clarification. ‘King Noctis Lucis Caelum,’ Ravus says crisply, his body emanating a powerful alpha scent that keeps Ignis’s nerves steady.

Noctis is the _king_ now? What happened? Where is Regis? What is happening in Lucis?

Ignis tells himself those questions aren’t important. What’s essential is that he now focuses on making sure they’re safe.

They had never considered informing Lucis of Ignis’s whereabouts, simply because it has never occurred to them that they would come after him. At the thought of them walking into Ardyn’s hands – the madman who broke every bone in Ignis’s body multiple times over, whose strength and powers are unparalleled because of his status as the Progenitor King, has Ignis shaking uncontrollably. Ignis puts a hand on Ravus’s wrist, and says in an urgent tone, ‘Tell them to turn back. Tell them I’m not there anymore. They can’t go to Gralea!’

Ravus clamps a hand around Ignis’s forearm. ‘Calm down, my love. It’s already done. I’ve informed them that you have evacuated Gralea and there is only danger ahead for them, and I did it as soon as we received this missive. You have to trust that the message gets to them. The Coven of Leviathan are good, reliable allies, and it would benefit them to protect the King of Lucis now that the empire has fallen.’

‘All right,’ Ignis breathes once, then twice, then thrice. ‘All right.’

Ravus’s smile is small and sad. ‘I’ve informed them of your whereabouts as well. Once they realize there is nothing for them in Gralea they will turn and head towards Tenebrae instead. We can only hope that they receive the message in time.’

There is a small part of him that does not want to see those men. He does not want Noctis seeing him like this – broken, scarred, healing. But then he sees the visceral sadness reflected in Ravus’s eyes and he realizes that Ravus is afraid of losing him.

Ignis holds Ravus’s hand in his. ‘Even if they do come here, nothing will change,’ he says fiercely. And it’s true. Ravus and Ignis have a child together, and they are bonded mates. No matter his history with them, it does not negate what Ravus and Ignis currently have.

But nonetheless his heart yearns to see them again.


	22. Reunion

Gralea is a day away by airship from Tenebrae. But two days have elapsed since that fateful message has arrived, and there has been no news whatsoever. The entourage did not arrive at Tenebrae, and they did not turn back to Altissia either. But no one’s spotted them in Gralea yet, as Commodore Highwind reports. She makes weekly trips to the capital to forage for evacuees and resources.

So it is not quite bad news, but not good news either.

Perhaps they have decided to turn back towards Lucis, but without actual confirmation, Ignis can only pray and hope that they have chosen to do that.

His mind is racked by anxiety, but on the other hand, he is terribly distracted by the changes to his body.

It’s like his body is harboring an alien inside of him and it is doing its level best to purge itself of this unfamiliar lifeform. He spends so much time of every night simply hugging the toilet bowl, vomiting various fluids until he is pale and shaking and exhausted. He spews blood and guts and water, and he’s not even in the mood to take any blood from Ravus, let alone anything else.

He has never felt so inhuman in his life, even though he is a vampire and should transcend this petty human reaction. He vomits, streams leaving his empty, churning gut, and even as he presses trembling hands to his mouth, he sees it. Dark red blood, filled with black flecks. He has seen this shade of black before. The scourge.

It would make sense for him to harbor it in his body, considering how many times he and Ardyn have actually exchanged blood, but it’s still a jolt to his senses nonetheless. Immediately his hand goes to his stomach, and he wonders with sickening dread how it might actually affect his newborn child. But he is simply so exhausted that it’s hard to think beyond crawling into bed at the moment, so he simply freshens himself up, flush the toilet and toss back a glass of water before he puts his head down on a pillow.

And for the first time in his vampiric life, he actually dreams. The last time he’s had a dream he was still human.

Ignis’s eyes flutter open, and he sees Ardyn standing by his bedside. The man looks remarkably normal, as normal as he was before he lost his mind anyway. He is wearing his usual set of rags, replete with the hat on his head. His eyes look clear, and expression amused. ‘Hello, Ignis.’

Ignis blinks up at him. ‘Where are you now, alpha?’

‘Oh, me? I’m still at Gralea, where you left me,’ Ardyn answers him almost indulgently. ‘You’ve been very busy, little omega.’

Ignis tightens his fist. Wake up, he tells himself. You don’t have to keep dreaming about this mad man. You are already free of his clutches, and he cannot hurt you anymore.

Ardyn bends down. Ignis freezes, rooted in place as he watches Ardyn lift the hem of Ignis’s shirt with a thumb and finger, inspecting the still flat expanse of flesh above the waistband of his pants. ‘Hmm. You’re carrying his child already. I’m guessing Ravus must have some fast swimmers. And for your sake, I hope he is well-endowed too. After all, you’re a slutty little omega, aren’t you?’

Ignis refuses to engage, but Ardyn pushes on anyway. ‘What is he giving you in exchange for asking you to carry his child?’ He sees Ignis’s face, and a flash of sadistic glee appears on his own. ‘Oh, it’s like that, is it? Do you _love_ him?’ Ardyn mocked.

‘Go away,’ Ignis snaps. ‘Just … stay away from me. I don’t want to see you, not even in my fucking dreams!’

‘Oh, Ignis. So foolish, my little omega. What makes you think that this is a dream?’

Ignis jolts upright, slashing his daggers across Ardyn’s face.

Ardyn disappears like he was never there in the first place, and too late now, Ignis realizes that he’s drawn from the wrong Armiger. The only one he still has access to – a flash of red that he knows he can’t take back.

Even as he retracts it, his heart is pounding in his ears. This is a dream.

Ravus bursts into the room. ‘Ignis, what’s wrong?’

Ignis closes his eyes. It is not a dream.

Ravus rushes to his bedside. ‘I felt a ripple from you, and I wanted to see if you were all right.’

Ignis is shaking so hard, his teeth chattering that he finds it difficult to put a coherent sentence together. ‘I pulled from his Armiger, Ravus,’ Ignis explains. ‘He’ll know where I am.’ He feels Ravus’s hand tighten on his for a moment, then deliberately relaxes.

‘I’m sure he could have guessed quite easily where you were once he discovered we were both gone. Do not worry overly much. If Ardyn does come, we will deal with that problem when we cross the bridge.’

‘I have to break the bond,’ Ignis says. ‘It can’t be allowed to continue. I’m afraid that it will harm our child. I already have traces of the scourge inside of me. I don’t want to corrupt my child with that shit.’

Ravus puts a hand on his wrist, firm and unyielding. ‘Ignis, we’ve talked about this. It’s too dangerous.’

‘It’s more dangerous if we’re still connected, Ravus. I can’t have him hovering over me. Or my child. If we can’t kill him, the next best thing is for me to break the soul bond. Even if he knows where I am, there would be no reason for him to come after me.’

‘You might die,’ Ravus says.

‘I might not,’ Ignis retorts. ‘But he’s as dangerous to me as long as our connections are still open. Please, Ravus. You and I have this bond. You know where I am, you know when I’m in trouble and what I’m feeling. I can’t have this intimacy with that man. I simply can’t. Even if you don’t agree, don’t stop me. If I can’t count on your support, at least step aside.’

Ravus’s expression is extremely displeased. ‘Ignis, I urge caution. I cannot keep you safe if you insist on putting yourself in danger.’

‘I will do this, with or without you,’ Ignis insists.

Ravus sighs, and relents. Ignis can tell because Ravus places his hand on Ignis’s shoulder, gentle and affectionate, with a good dose of exasperation laced in. ‘You, my love, are infuriatingly stubborn.’

Ignis leans his forehead against Ravus’s stomach, inhaling the lovely scent of his alpha, and feels calm in his heart. ‘I’m going to do it now. No time like the present.’

Ravus urges him to feed first, so he can be at full strength. It’s not a bad idea, and he latches onto Ravus’s neck and drinks more than his usual intake, and he can feel the flow of magic inside of him, sparking every nerve in his body. He can do this. And safe in Ravus’s embrace, he closes his eyes.

He follows the magic into the core of his vampire strength, and travel along the sparkling white, completed bond pulsing inside of him. It is strong, and shining with a white light. He passes it, and then past three branches of incomplete soul bonds. They are strong looking, but the edges are fraying, decaying. Ignis refuses to dwell on them.

Then he arrives at an ugly, pulsating red thread. Ignis seizes it with all his power and his magic, and attempts to sever it. It is hard work, because it doesn’t break easily, and there is no give. But he summons all of Ravus’s magic and his own, and the last vestiges of Noctis’s magic left inside of his body, and he tears the bond into two.

Instantly the feeling of wrongness floods his body, and every nerve is alight in agony. It is pain as he’s never known before, something that thankfully knocks him into oblivion, because he isn’t sure he will survive this. If bonding was terrible, than the severing is beyond that. He feels everything inside of him scream, and there is nothing he can do about it. The pain doesn’t stop, it simply tears and tears at him until he is no more, and he closes his eyes.

He drifts in and out of that comatose state for days to come. Time blurs together and he is nothing but a floating speck. Nothing can touch him now in the sea of nothingness. His body has never been this weak. It is simply limp, with nothing inside of it. A hollow husk, a mere receptacle.

But as bad as it is, there is something even worse. He looks at the bond between him and Ardyn, and even though it has been ripped, it has not been sundered completely. A tiny minuscule thread hangs between them still. Ignis has damaged the bond irreparably, that much is clear, but he had not successfully severed the bond. And he’s afraid that if he does try again, he will die this time.

He opens his eyes.

‘Hello, darling.’

Ignis’s eyes widen with shock. It is not Ravus who sits by him, but Ardyn.

And he is back in his room in Zegnatus Keep.

This is a dream.

This must be a dream.

Ardyn puts his hand on Ignis’s hip under his clothes.

Oh dear Astrals above, it is not a fucking dream. Ignis cannot help the whimper of fear that escapes his throat, even as he rallies what’s left of his sluggish mind. He tries to reorient himself. He’s back at the Keep. Ravus is nowhere close. The spark inside his belly is still safe and protected.

He sags in mild relief, then immediately tenses when he feels those fingers press harder against his skin.

Ardyn is sitting on the bed with him. And for pity’s sake, Ignis can no longer pull from the Armiger.

Ardyn tuts at him disapprovingly. ‘It’s really all your own damned fault, you know, darling. You were the one who tried to sever the bond, and it’s so damaged that you can’t even access my Armiger anymore. Never mind then, it’s work out for the better.’

‘Why am I here? How?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know!’ Ardyn grins proudly. There is still a hint of madness in those eyes, but he seems to be relatively sane right now. ‘You were out for three days, you know. Completely blank. And gone. It was so easy to simply swoop you off the bed and bring you back to Gralea with me. It’s supremely hilarious watching you try to break the bond and fail anyway! And knocking yourself out, leaving you defenseless. If this is your ploy of getting back to me, then I have to salute your ingenuity.’

‘No,’ Ignis says. Ravus wouldn’t have let him go without a fight. But he finds that white, sparkling bond inside of himself, and it’s still pulsing. Ravus is alive. But far away, he can tell, because the bond is a little faint.

‘Oh, your darling Ravus couldn’t really protect you, you know. Not when he was off in that swashbuckling outfit of his, wielding the Alba Leonis, fighting off Magitek Troopers, trying to to save his beloved Tenebrae. So heroic. So handsome. I would have fallen in love with him too.’

‘What did you do?’ Ignis asks, in horror.

‘Not much, sadly. I simply set a few fires here and there. You should have seen it, omega. The castle went up in flames, as all the forests and tress and living things around it. I saw so many people, dancing inside the flames, shrieking to the high heavens. This is the Infernian’s gift, you know. Such powerful magic. One moment, Tenebrae is still standing there, proud and magnificent, and in the next, on its knees like the filthy traitorous whore you are, nothing but ashes and smoke.’

Ignis can’t even begin to comprehend the destruction of his new home. But he knows that he was the one who brought it to its doorstep.

‘Where is Ravus?’

Ardyn shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I don’t care.’

‘Why did you leave him alive?’

‘Because I wanted to see him suffer. He took what was mine, and that was terribly inappropriate.’

‘It was my idea to bond with him,’ Ignis spits angrily.

‘I know,’ Ardyn smiles, and his entire expression is transforms into feralness that Ignis has seen before. ‘Oh, believe me, I know. You’ve been a tricky little omega, always spinning and playing with your puppets. But I am not your toy. I am your master, and you will learn your place.’

‘No,’ Ignis bites out, even as Ardyn pins him down to the mattress with one hand between his shoulder blades. The man’s strength is simply monstrous. Ardyn could crush him very easily, and the life inside of him.

‘Ugh, I don’t even want to touch you, you smell different now now that you have a dirty brat in your belly. You smell like a common, dirty whore that’s been knocked up by a john.’

Ignis feels a mild rush of relief. Ardyn won’t touch him.

‘Ah well. Beggars can’t be choosers, though,’ Ardyn says, and Ignis freezes. ‘But you are my omega, and I am your bonded. You belong to me, and I will show you your place.’

‘No, please. Anything but that.’ Ignis flails and struggles, desperately trying to inch away, burrowing deeper into the mattress instead. ‘Alpha, please!’

The pressure eases off his back, and Ignis looks through watery eyes at the figure behind him. ‘Since you begged so prettily,’ Ardyn says, a manic smile on his face. Ignis wonders if their connection is still able to influence Ardyn enough to keep him protected. ‘It pains me to see my omega so upset, you know. Let’s play a game.’

Ignis cautiously sits up.

‘As we speak, your dashing prince charming is on the way to your rescue.’

Ignis’s heart clenches with dismay and fear.

‘But fear not, for with him is a ragtag posse, and they are united in their love for you, despite how awkward and uncomfortable they are with each other. They are already in the Keep, trying to navigate through the little maze I set them.’

‘Who?’ Ignis says, but he already knows.

‘Oh, let’s see. Other than your handsome prince? A little blond, an oversized boy, and your king. Mmm. I wouldn’t really mind seeing all them writhe in pain and despair. Especially the adorable blond. Do you even know his mongrel origins, darling? I bet he hasn’t told any of you. He’s nothing but a pretty little clone who got away.’ Ardyn pulls two daggers from his Armiger in a flash of red, and hands them to Ignis. ‘Take this. You will have to defend yourself against the countless little pets I made that are now roaming the Keep. Wouldn’t want you to be dead before I get in one last fuck, you know.’

Ignis grips the daggers in his hand.

‘Go find them, Ignis. If you can get to them before I grow bored of their terrible navigational skills, I shall spare all of you. You know what, I’m feeling kind. I’ll give you a twenty minute headstart. But they’re getting on my nerves. These idiots have been roaming the Keep for hours now, and they’ve gone no further than the base levels. It’s laughable.’

‘Why are you playing this game?’ Ignis asks despite himself.

Ardyn laughs. ‘Your Noctis is the King of Light. He holds the power to destroy me once and for all, but I must confess I’m not quite ready to go yet. But we shall see what happens, when we pit our powers against each other, and we see who shall prevail. The King of Light, or … me. I am simply a man of no consequence.’

Ignis backs up a step. Then another. All the while keeping his gaze locked onto Ardyn’s.

‘Twenty minutes, little omega. If I find them before you do, they’re dead. And if I find you, well …’ Ardyn croons softly. ‘I’m sure you can imagine. It will be a beautiful, glorious reunion, and we will celebrate it with the death of the little bastard inside of you.’

Ignis didn’t even hesitate this time. He turned and ran, Ardyn’s laughter echoing in his ears.


	23. Hunt

Ignis sits with his back against the wall in the corner of a tight hallway, daggers in hand as he tries to get his breath back. The magic inside of him is dwindling steadily. The daggers, which were light and easy to wield in hand when he first ran from Ardyn, are now heavy and cumbersome. He can’t put it back into the Armiger for fear of alerting Ardyn to his actual location, so he made the decision to hold onto them physically.

But he has so little left inside of him, he must as well be dragging blocks of lead.

It has been five days since they began this cat and mouse game, and Ignis had pushed his body to its absolute limits. If he thought he was exhausted before from experiencing all the trauma, and fatigued from his newly changing body, it does not hold a candle to what he is experiencing now. He is constantly on the verge of falling asleep, and the only thing keeping him awake or waking him up is pure, undiluted fear.

The Keep is filled with creatures of the scourge, and malfunctioning Magitek Troopers still patrolling the halls. Ignis can’t turn a corner without even encountering one of them. Sometimes, groups of them. He burns through the magic inside his body at an alarming pace, and his physical strength is drying up as he spins and runs and jumps and deflects.

But still, he has to fight. Or he will die.

Even though he is cracking under the weight of the exhaustion of carrying and making a life inside his body, he had stopped sleeping after the first day. It had been out of necessity rather than anything else.

The first day, hours after the sun had risen, he had collapsed into a dormitory bed. He just needed an hour, and then he would keep moving.

He had awoken to a weight on the mattress. He jumped up, pressed the point of the dagger against Ravus’s white coat. ‘Ravus,’ he croaked in relief, and dropped his daggers to hug the man. That deep alpha scent he emitted calmed Ignis down enough for him to release the sob he’s been holding for a while now. ‘You’re here.’

‘I’m here now, omega,’ Ravus said, and smiled at him, and wrapped him inside the warmth of his arms. Ignis felt those familiar, beloved hands sneak under his clothes to touch his skin, and he leaned into that security. But even as he does, an alarm goes off in his head. He smelled woodfire, and instantly reared back, and saw the madness in Ravus’s eyes.

Ignis kicked his boot into Ardyn’s chest even as he laughed at Ignis with his own voice. ‘You figured it out way too quickly, my pet,’ Ardyn said, his eyes winking with amusement. ‘But guess what?’

‘What?’ Ignis breathed, bringing his daggers up in defense.

‘Found you!’ Ardyn chuckled, and Ignis simply slid out of the way and sprinted out the dormitory.

That put an end to his desire to sleep.

He’s been on the run since then, never stopping for more than an hour at a time. His body is suffering through the punishment as it is, but he pushes it harder, wringing every last drop of magic out of himself to keep going, to keep fighting. When night does fall, however, he can always feel the dormant spark return to his body, giving him a second wind for the next twelve hours. But when morning arrives, every step he takes is agony, and every slash at an enemy seems to bring his body a step closer to death.

This is some kind of insane agony, but there is nothing worse the way Ardyn continually taunts him over the loud speakers scattered all over the Keep. Each time Ardyn’s voice spoke it startled him, unease flowing through him. He sometimes taunted him by telling him exactly what he would do to Ignis’s body when they were reunited, or he would drop hints about Noctis’s location within the Keep. He found out for himself that they were all lies.

All of it was horrible, but none more so than that one time when Ardyn’s voice comes over the speakers, drawling and amused. ‘One little goblin, two little goblins …’ He is singing in a parody of that children’s song. It raises all the hair on the back of his neck.Two goblins jump within his view, and Ignis begins to fight them. And then more keep coming.

He has just dispatched them when he hears Ardyn continue to sing. ‘Seven little goblins, eight little goblins …’ Ignis counts them as he kills them, and the moment he’s dispatched the eighth, he just want the ninth and tenth to turn up so he can have a rest. Catch his breath. Maybe vomit, because his stomach is churning.

‘Nine little goblins … One Iron Giant!’ Ignis has frozen mid-swing, then takes two steps back in hesitation, and turns around and sprints away as Ardyn’s laughter cackles uncontrollably over the speakers. He hadn’t even waited for the damn thing to manifest.

By the end of the second night, he knows something is wrong inside the Keep. While it is large and labyrinthian in design, there is a predictability in its design that tells him that he really should have come across Ravus and the others at some point, or at least encounter traces that they have left behind.

Either Ardyn has concealed them from each other with some trickery of his, or they were never here at all. He refuses to entertain either thought for more than a few minutes. He doesn’t really have a choice but to keep moving on.

He can’t die here. He has something bigger than himself to protect now. And as for the men he loves … he won’t let them die so easily. So he simply keeps moving, even though everything inside of him is collapsing and failing.

In front of him, a few goblins skitter into view. These creatures are nothing more than annoyances, but that was in the beginning. Now they are as dangerous as an Iron Giant, because the sun is high up in the sky and there is absolutely nothing left inside of him.

Ignis scrambles to his feet, and thrusts himself forward, impaling the first goblin before the others realize he’s there. Then he yanks out of the dagger and takes two steps to the left, spins his entire body to get enough momentum so he can take out two goblins side by side. He has to manually yank the daggers out of the still bodies and he throws one at the final goblin.

When the hallway becomes quiet once again, Ignis fights his own instincts to sit down for a rest. If he goes down, he doesn’t know when he will get back up again. It’s already bad enough that he’s been caught in a corner with goblins, and it’s only luck that they haven’t seen him before he’s seen them.

He keeps walking, and he finds himself in the hangar. No matter how many times he’s walked this gigantic warehouse, he hasn’t seen any airships. He takes another step, and then another step. His right knee gives out first, and then the other crashes down onto the concrete. His daggers slip from his sweaty and numb fingers and clatter onto the ground, and his entire body tumbles down as well.

The nausea that he’s been holding back for the past few hours simply tear out of him and onto the concrete below. Blood and clear water, despite the fact that he’s put nothing inside himself for a week now. It’s uncomfortable and even painful, especially around his ribs, which he suspected he has either bruised or fractured from a couple of days ago, when he failed to dodge the elbow swing from an Iron Giant. At least he managed to avoid that cleave, which would most likely be fatal in his current state. But if he’s still reacting to the nausea, hopefully it means that his child is still safe.

Then a pair of booted feet come into view, and Ignis hates himself for the fact that he does not even have anything left inside of him to get up and run.

‘Hello Ignis.’ It is Noctis’s voice he uses, and Noctis’s body, but Ignis has wised up enough to not fall for the same trick twice.

‘Fuck you.’

It is Ardyn who crouches at his feet, and draws circles on his calf. He can’t help but remember that time when Ardyn bound him to the bed. He stops breathing, fights that fear that rises inside of him.

He won’t go back there. He can’t. He’d rather die.

Ignis watches him for a while, when in fact he was really just mentally relaxing every single muscle and gathering energy. He needs to be loose and limber, and to make his escape at the first opening. ‘Found you again,’ Ardyn whispers gleefully. Then he places a hand over Ignis’s daggers and puts them back into his Armiger.

Dread settles in his stomach. He can’t even bring the daggers back.

He knows he has missed his chance to run when Ardyn gets up, still with Ignis’s ankle in hand, and begins to walk towards the exit of the hangar. He drags Ignis’s body along like he is a heavy sack of potatoes along the ground, and it is so supremely uncomfortable that Ignis simply stops fighting it and lets him do it. He curls himself into a ball as best he can.

Thankfully the journey isn’t so far, because Ardyn finds the closest dormitory that probably once housed the airship engineers and pretty much slams him down onto the bed. Ignis sits up gingerly, refusing to be on his back for more than a second.

‘Where are they?’ Ignis asks. ‘Are they even here? There’s been no trace of them at all.’

‘Oh, they’re definitely here, all right,’ Ardyn smiles. ‘Such a pity that you haven’t been able to find them at all. This Keep is rather huge, after all. But I’ve been watching all of you, and there was a heart-stopping moment that you got so, so close to them.’

Ignis stares at him.

‘You remember two days ago? Or was it three days now? When you got ambushed by the shock troopers and you decided to run instead of fighting them? Well, let me put it this way. If you had taken them down and kept going, you would have bumped into your old friend in the control room up ahead. That little blond omega was trying to tamper with some of the controls to find you on the monitors.’ Ardyn shrugs. ‘Too bad.’

That gaze in his eyes is drenched with lust. ‘Now, to the victor goes the spoils. I’m feeling generous, little omega. Would you like to put up a fight or simply lie on your back?’

‘I don’t want any of it,’ Ignis spits.

‘My, my, so feisty. Would it be so much easier for you if I became one of them? Come on, I’ll let you choose. Do you want the father of your child? Or your best friend? Or that little blond? Or your prince?’ Ardyn laughs cruelly. ‘I know, I’ll choose for you!’

Ignis is rendered speechless. Something snaps inside him. ‘This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? When are you going to stop? Why are you so cruel?’ Ignis whispers, and to his own shock his voice is shaky at best, and straining. He is so close to losing his mind, so close to just letting it all out and screaming, and very possibly, breaking down in tears.

But Ignis is not a crier, and he never has been. His philosophy in life is to keep moving, and stoicism is his best friend. So he steels himself for more abuse, resolutely shutting his mouth, his chest heaving with exertion and pain and anger.

‘Why am I … _cruel_?’ Ardyn laughs like he’s heard the world’s best joke. ‘Why wouldn’t I be, when I have been dealt nothing but unkindness my entire, wretched life? And you, little omega, you should know what it’s like. Abandoned by your parents when you were a mere child, taken in as a servant to the crown, and suffering in silence for so many years when you watched your prince and his Shield love each other. And then, oh, even better, the little blond comes along and gets turned before you do even though you are the one who’s pledged fealty to them.’

‘That was …’ Ignis doesn’t even complete the sentence, because he can’t. Ardyn has pulled those feelings and that history out from him. It’s all truth, he can’t even deny it. ‘That’s in the past.’

‘And then fate hands you another shitty deal by making you an omega, plucking you from anonymous obscurity and drops you into suffering. You should be angry, Ignis. You should want to tear down everything around you and set it all on fire, as befitting your name.’

‘I am angry.’

‘Not nearly angry enough,’ Ardyn insists, and his golden eyes now flash with uncontrolled, insane rage that reflects his feelings at his own predicament. ‘All you needed was a little kindness, and no one ever showed you. The Astrals themselves have turned their backs on you. You are nothing but a pawn in their senseless game.’

Who was Ardyn really talking about? Ignis, or himself?

Or the both of them? Did it even matter? 

‘Is that what’s twisted you and turned you into a monster?’ Ignis asks.

‘Oh, darling, I’ve been a monster long before that,’ Ardyn grins, but his smile is bitter.

‘You weren’t,’ Ignis says, surprising himself. He had seen it for himself from he drank from Ardyn. Even in those deepest, darkest corners of his heart where the scourge has taken up permanent residence. ‘You were a good man before … all of this. Before you made a choice to commit all the atrocities.’

‘Oh?’ Ardyn says almost mockingly. ‘You’re going to say that I’m worthy of saving now? Are you going to be the saint who shows me what kindness is in hopes of turning me back onto the path?’ His chuckle is sadistic and unkind.

‘No,’ Ignis says. ‘I don’t. You are beyond saving. The things you’ve done, to other people, to me … no one can fix that, not even you. I can’t save you.’

‘So what is it that you can offer me?’ Ardyn asks, but he is no longer smiling.

‘If it is kindness that you desire, I can … I can give it you.’

Nothing has ever upset Ardyn like this. ‘Shut up, omega. I don’t need anything from you. I will take it.’

‘You can have it,’ Ignis offers. ‘Do what you wish to me.’

Ardyn’s hand around his throat tightens, and Ignis wills himself to relax. He submits.

Ardyn’s hand releases him with a jerk, as if he has been burned. 

Ignis breathes quietly. ‘I forgive you, Ardyn. For everything you’ve done to me.’ He reaches out slowly, carefully, with his right hand. And curls it around the back of Ardyn’s neck.

And when he doesn’t push Ignis away, Ignis pulls closer, as much as his beaten body will allow. He slumps against Ardyn’s chest, mindful of the way Ardyn holds himself so taut he’s like an overstretched spring that will snap with one wrong move. Ignis’s eyes flutter close, and he presses his lips against Ardyn’s unmoving ones.

Then very slowly once more, he nudges gently against those tight lips, cajoling sweetly until he can slip his tongue in there. And he licks tentatively at the heat inside his mouth, his nose inhaling that smoky woodfire scent. This is his alpha after all, and they are still connected by a thread.

He wants to give Ardyn this final gift – of willingness, of kindness. Of love, of which he has never known. This is the last thing Ignis will, and can give him. After that, he will break the bond once and for all – even if it means death. He won’t have the shadow of this man following him wherever he goes.

He lets his own heart, and his own heat guide him. He strips efficiently, baring himself before the mad god sitting in front of him, cruel, unmoving.

Ignis curls his legs around the man’s hips, still showering soft, careful kisses on his lips, and his neck. He makes a wet trail all the way from his shoulder down to those marble hard chest, and downwards still. He takes Ardyn’s cock into his mouth, and sucks on it hard, hollowing out his cheeks. He worships his alpha’s body while he stretches his own body open, and soon their scents are mingling in the air.

When Ardyn is hard and ready, Ignis rears up, and glues himself against Ardyn’s torso, linking his hands behind the man’s head. ‘Take me, alpha. I am yours.’

He lets Ardyn slam him onto his back against the thin mattress, nudge his willing and wet thighs open and receives him into his body. The first thrust is brutal and painful, more discomfort than anything. His body has changed, and he is nowhere near as slick as before, but there is enough to keep him from tearing.

His hands never release their hold behind Ardyn’s head, and he allows Ardyn to rut against him, thrusting in and out, and for his own moans to leave his mouth. In deep pleasure and open joy at their copulation, at his own submission to his body. There is no shame or humiliation here, and he reaches out for every sizzle of pleasure with willing fingers.

Soon he comes, with his muscles clenched around Ardyn’s rather sizeable cock, and tears in his eyes. He is not sure who is crying for, or what about – himself, perhaps, or is it Ardyn, who despite all that he has done, is the most pitiable figure of all.

He tightens up his muscles and his hold on Ardyn, and pulls himself close enough to whisper into Ardyn’s ear. ‘Come for me, alpha.’

And with a shout of pure agony, Ardyn empties himself into Ignis, his harsh breaths punctuating the silence in the air.

And Ignis finally lets go, sliding onto the mattress with a wordless groan. He closes his eyes even as Ardyn is still pressed against his chest, listening to his heart beat. Ignis lets all the overwhelming feeling of pain and exhaustion take him, and he slides under. But this time, he no longer fights it.


	24. Culmination

He wakes up with a start, as if his body has just realized that it’s not supposed to be sleeping for so long. The first thing he detects is the surge of energy that comes only with nightfall. And yet, he has to peel himself off the bed because it feels like he’s been sleeping in a pool of sweat, slick and come. It’s disgusting. If it’s nightfall, he’s been out for quite a few hours, at least.

Ignis practically crawls into the tiny shower and lets the water pound down on him. He feels so much better when he emerges and hastily dries himself. He balks on pulling on the clothes he had been wearing but it’s not like he has a choice.

He puts on his glasses and tucks his shirt into his slacks, feeling the strain in his thighs and the hollow feeling of thirst inside of him. He takes a step forward, just as he hears scuffling on the other side of the door.

Ignis looks around for his daggers, and remembers that Ardyn has taken them. Shit. But he’s not going to fight empty-handed, not if he can help it. He has to try, at least. Surely Ardyn wouldn’t be that cruel to leave him without a weapon.

He closes his eyes, and takes a deep, steadying breath.

Then he pulls from the Armiger, and jerks back at the flash of blue.

Blue, not red. Noctis’s Armiger. He’s shocked. He hasn’t been able to pull for months now.

‘Shit! What was that? It was nearby. It came from somewhere nearby,’ a low voice says from the other side of the door. It sounds like Prompto. No, it can’t be.

Ignis freezes. Is this another one of Ardyn’s tricks?

‘Prom, stop, wait!’ Gladio’s voice. ‘Let me go first.’

Can Ardyn pretend to be two people at once?

Ignis crouches in a low stance, holding his own beloved daggers safely in his hands, in a ready position. There’s only one exit in the dormitory, and if he wants to get by unscathed he will have to fight his way out.

The automatic door opens, and Ignis clenches his jaw as he stares at the wary hazel eyes of Gladiolus Amicitia. Behind him, Prompto gasps. ‘Iggy!’ 

Gladio holds out his arm, barring Prompto’s entry. His gaze is cool, assessing. As if he is sizing Ignis up and determining whether he is real or not. Ignis understands immediately. Ardyn must have been playing the same games with them too.

But Ignis is still not entirely sure if Ardyn is still playing the game with him. So he merely holds the daggers in front of him, and waits.

‘There’s an item on Noctis’s desk that he’s cherished for many years,’ Gladio says, holding his greatsword in front of him, as if he is ready to swing if Ignis says the wrong thing. ‘What is it?’

Ignis feels the instant rush of relief and joy and _love_ at the unexpected reunion _._ ‘A single chocobo feather,’ he whispers it, but Gladiolus hears it from the way he smiles.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, they had been out on one of their road trips, and Prompto had been so excited to catch sight of a chocobo. They ended up following the chocobo and then had accidentally stumbled onto a Behemoth’s den. They watched as the chocobo became the Behemoth’s dinner, and then it looked at them like they were dessert. The ensuing battle had been intense, exhilarating, and they had all come to close to actual physical death that it felt like an actual miracle when they had emerged from it with singed flesh and scratch marks.

Collapsed onto one another, Prompto had grabbed a stray chocobo feather and said, ‘Thanks, dude. Guess I ended up seeing a chocobo after all.’

That was the first time that Noctis had hauled Prompto’s face against his, and kissed him. Looking back now, that was the moment all of their feelings had begun consolidating.

Gladiolus strides forward and Ignis stumbles into his arms.

Pressed up against that strong, hard chest, Ignis catches his breath for a moment, inhaling Gladiolus’s familiar, earthy scent. He lets those muscular arms hold him, and Ignis swore that he wouldn’t cry. Not here, not now. But it feels so right to be back on familiar ground again.

Behind him, Prompto stepped up, and Ignis could smell fresh-cut flowers. He gently extricates himself, then turns to hug Prompto, who is now splashing rivers of tears against Ignis’s shirt. ‘Iggy,’ he sobs, but the way he says Ignis’s name is relieved prayer and joyful disbelief all at once.

Ignis understands without any further words. He holds Prompto hard against him, and then lets go. There will be plenty of time for commiseration later.

‘We have to go,’ Ignis says. ‘Where is Noctis? Ravus? Why aren’t you guys together?’

‘We agreed to split into two teams in order to scour the Keep a little more efficiently. We’ve been here for days, Iggy,’ Prompto explains, brushing away his tears with his wristband. ‘We could smell you sometimes, but we just couldn’t find you.’

‘I’m here now,’ Ignis says, then pulls Prompto in for another fierce hug. He calls the daggers into his hands again, and is still shocked as ever to see that it is his beloved daggers that he holds in his hand, not someone else’s. The thought of Ardyn quickens his pulse. ‘We have to get Ravus and Noctis. We have to get out of here now.’

Prompto nods, and puts his hand on Ignis’s elbow. It is the only thing that keeps him upright as his knees weaken under him as his strength fails him. ‘Iggy!’

Gladiolus turns to right him, holding his hips firmly in those large hands. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Thirsty,’ Ignis says, by way of explaining. The light-headedness is getting worse.

‘Take it from me,’ Gladiolus says, and lifts his wrist.

‘Uh-uh, big guy,’ Prompto says. ‘Take mine instead, Iggy. We need you to be in prime fighting condition, Gladio.’

Ignis understands. It makes sense. Gladiolus is the strongest out of all three of them, and this Keep is filled with unimaginably powerful creatures, as they all know from first hand experience. Ignis gently turns Prompto’s proffered wrist and licks the tender skin before biting down.

He tries to pace himself, but his body is desperately thirsty, and in the end it is Gladiolus who has to pull him off Prompto. Ignis feels the power inside of him, from Gladiolus and Noctis and Prompto, and the magic rushes back into him. He checks to make sure Prompto is all right, but Prompto is quick to reassure him.

They move out of the dormitory, and Ignis can feel the magic fighting back against the fatigue and the nausea inside of him. But he wills himself to move forward, and then go down a series of steps. Gladiolus guides them through the empty hangar once again.

It is silent one second, but in the next every cursed creature under the moonlight swarms them, and they are fighting for their life. Paces ahead, Gladiolus is swinging violently at groups of monsters, trying to clear a path for them.

Ignis is doing his best as he relies on muscle memory to swing and spin and stab, but he feels like he is moving through water. Every action is a little slower, and every kill is an effort. He is desperately aware of the fact that Prompto is sticking close to him, fending off the smaller monsters by picking them off with dead-accurate shots from his guns, but Ignis is struggling to keep up.

The gap between them and Gladiolus is widening, and suddenly two shock troopers with scourge practically flying out of them slide into the gap and Ignis has to pivot around to deflect the troopers before they can launch their offensive. Ignis stabs one, kicks him aside, and leaps across to impale the other. But while he is on the ground, Prompto stumbles as another creature looms ahead and Ignis can’t get to him in time.

Then there is a flash of blue light, and Noctis has appeared in front of Prompto, deflecting the blade of the Iron Giant before it sends them all flying. Blue flashes spark as Noctis makes quick work of felling the giant beast, pinpointing all its weak points. Prompto takes the opportunity to reload his guns and begins to fire off a whole round, backing up to where Ignis is in order to help him to his feet.

As the giant creature falls onto his back, a blur of white appears behind it, and Ravus jumps onto the monster’s chest, plunging his sword through as the final blow. The monster lays dead, but there is no time to even stop and rest, and Ravus has pulled out his sword and leapt to Ignis.

‘Ravus!’ Ignis says, as relief courses through him. There is a part inside him that steadies, knowing that his alpha is now nearby.

Together, Ravus and Prompto yank Ignis to his feet. ‘There’s too many of them,’ Ravus says in a calm voice as he keeps his sword in front of the both of them.

Noctis concurs. ‘Let’s make a run for it,’ he says. ‘Cover me, Prom.’ Noctis closes his eyes, and he calls up a mighty fire spell that knocks out the first circle of monsters that have surrounded them. Noctis then takes off running, and shouts, ‘I’ll take point. Let’s go!’

Prompto follows after him, and then Ravus and Ignis, with Gladiolus taking up the rear.

Noctis warps ahead and smashes the monsters in their path away with a combination of his shield and great sword, cleaving a path of blood and gore. It is a filthy, difficult slog because the swarms of monsters won’t stop, intent of crowding them and blocking off their escape. Ravus has to move to the fore just behind Noctis just so he can help clear some of the monsters completely obsessed with throwing their entire bodies at them.

Ignis grits his teeth, and fights through it, knowing that staying on his feet is the priority. They move as one unit, a few steps forward before stopping, and another few steps again.

By the time they make it to the loading area, Ravus runs ahead of all of them, weaving and bobbing like a mad dancer amongst all the monsters, and hits a button for the automatic shutters to come down. The shutters are coming down quickly, and they make a mad dash into wide space, then turn to deal with the ones who have kept too closely.

The slower-moving monsters now firmly behind the shutters, they have a marginally easier time dealing with the ones in the the same space as them, and they are able to spread out a little more.

Noctis deals with the last stragglers with a massive cleave of his Engine Blade, chest heaving with exertion. They all collapse onto the ground, but then he looks up, and straight at Ignis.

‘Iggy,’ he croaks.

Ignis can’t help it. He’s no crier, but something inside of him breaks. There is only relief and unbridled joy on Noctis’s face, and for a moment, Ignis feels that everything that he’s done, he’s had to endure – it’s all worth it, because he gets to see Noctis in front of him again, safe and alive and healthy.

Noctis gets up, and stumbles over to Ignis. He sinks down to the ground, and smashes Ignis against his chest.

It’s like coming home.

Ignis presses his nose to Noctis’s neck, and holds on.

‘Why. How very touching.’ Ardyn drawls, as he steps out of the shadows.

‘Ardyn …’ Noctis growls, and lets go of Ignis to stand. His Engine Blade is in his hand. ‘It’s time to end this, you bastard.’

‘Is it?’ Ardyn’s golden eyes flash in amusement and fury. ‘I suppose so. It was fun to watch, so I thank you all for the entertainment. Especially the one provided by my little omega,’ Ardyn says, his gaze shifting over to Ignis.

Ignis’s hands tightens over his daggers.

Prompto fires the first shot, which goes through Ardyn like it is nothing. Noctis warp strikes to him, only for Ardyn to warp away. Ignis can tell that Noctis is shocked by the realization that the man has the same abilities as him, and he growls. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

Ardyn simply smiles.

‘The Progenitor King,’ Ignis explains quickly. ‘Ardyn Lucis Caelum. Noctis, we can’t kill him without destroying ourselves,’ he says urgently. ‘The fount of power lays within him.’

Hesitation freezes Noctis actions, and even the ever-calm Ravus looks disturbed by this development.

Ardyn takes advantage of the confusion to warp right in front of Ignis. Ignis turns just as the dagger flies past his ear, and then next thing he knows, Ardyn is standing in front of him, his hand holding the dagger. When he is this close, he can smell his alpha. He sees Ardyn’s golden gaze flare with desire.

‘Little omega,’ Ardyn says. ‘I see you still have the habit of disrupting my best-laid plans again.’ His smile is fond, with genuine affection. Ignis instantly knows that this is what Ardyn wants – he wants the world to burn with him, and he wants the race of vampires to die with him.

Ignis wants desperately to give it to him. He doesn’t mind his own existence ending, not at all. But then he sees Ravus. Noctis. Prompto. Gladiolus. And he feels that life pulsing strongly inside of him.

And he knows it can’t end like that.

Ardyn needs to die already. He’s been living for too long, and this is the final gift that Ignis can give him.

And then it occurs to him. ‘Noctis,’ he says urgently. ‘His core. We have to kill him and take it.’

With a cry of fury, Ignis drives both of his daggers into Ardyn’s heart, and Noctis follows by stabbing him with the Engine Blade. Ardyn warps out of range, but cannot escape Ravus spearing through him with Alba Leonis, nor the swing of Gladiolus’s greatsword. Prompto fires furiously, incapacitating Ardyn long enough for Noctis to call for the first of his Royal Arms, and drive each of them painstakingly into Ardyn’s body, knocking him down to the ground and keeping him there.

Flash after blue flash sparking in the air, Noctis keeps up the onslaught, and the scourge splashes into the air, tainting all of them with its filthy, greasy scent. Noctis finished by plunging the Sword of the Father into Ardyn.

‘Fuck, he’s not dead,’ Prompto pants, panic in his voice. ‘What the fuck is tying him here?’

Ardyn twitches, and is about to get up again when Ignis knows what he has to do. He closes his eyes, and reaches down inside of him, where he finds that angry red thread, holding on by just a hair. That bond that should have never been, that cursed bond that connected the both of them … Ignis takes hold of it, and is about to break it completely when he feels a tender caress against his cheek. Of blood, and scourge.

He opens his eyes, and looks up into Ardyn’s crazed eyes, as if he knows, and has predicted what Ignis is about to do. ‘Goodbye, omega.’

‘Ardyn—’

And then a searing, burning pain rips through him, and the bond is broken. White-hot pain strobes through his body, and it’s like staring at the sun. It burns him up, agony in every cell. He is pressed up against floor, a puddle of excruciating nothingness. Very dimly, around his periphery, he can feel someone holding him as he screams his throat raw.

And then there is nothing.


	25. Twilight

Ignis comes to consciousness slowly, fuzzily. He is curled up and sprawled across Ravus’s lap. He looks around. Everyone is still on the ground, seemingly exhausted, with everything taken out of them. So he hasn’t been out for very long, then.

He breathes deeply, and scents his alpha. The sweet, spicy sandalwood is able to block out the coppery tang of blood hovering in the air. As he stirs, Ravus helps him sit up. ‘Easy, my love,’ he whispers softly, and Ignis turns to nudge his nose against the man’s jacket in a bid to inhale his scent to calm himself down.

‘Is it over?’ Ignis asks.

‘Yes,’ Ravus says. ‘He is … Ardyn is dead.’

Ignis turns his head, very slowly, and sees the mound of dust in front of him. His breath hitches, and a sob comes out of him. He tries to compose himself. ‘What happened?’

‘Noctis. He killed Ardyn, and took the vampiric core from Ardyn and into himself.’

Ignis sighs in deep relief. He looks to Noctis, who is watching Ignis very closely, but from a distance. ‘It’s over.’

‘It’s over,’ Ravus confirms.

Ignis closes his eyes, and breathes deeply.

After a perfunctory rest, they all get to their feet. Ignis is feeling better, mostly because Ravus has offered him some blood. Ignis hadn’t taken much, because he sees how pale and exhausted Ravus is. They have all been through a ridiculous ordeal, and Ignis simply cannot help but hope that they will leave here soon and to rest somewhere safer. His energy is flagging, as the sun is up in the air.

Too late now Ignis remembers something that Ardyn has told him. He clutches the lapels of Ravus’s jacket desperately. ‘Tenebrae.’

Ravus looks at him, pain etched in every line of his jaw. ‘It’s gone. Destroyed in massive fires. But my people are safe, and that’s the main thing.’

Ignis’s eyes fill at the thought of that beautiful sylleblossom garden, gone up in flames. Ravus’s home, the seat of the Tenebraen royals, destroyed because Ignis had chosen to shelter there.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly. ‘You lost your home … because of me. Your sister …!’

‘Is safe. She led the evacuation efforts. They are sheltering in a safe place.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Ignis says.

‘Many are safe, including you, and I must be thankful for that,’ Ravus says resolutely. Ignis hugs him.

Noctis comes up to them. He is careful not to touch him, Ignis can tell. ‘Come to Insomnia,’ he offers. ‘Our covens are both rather small, and there is ample space in Lucis for us to coexist. And … thank you, Ravus. I am forever in your debt.’

Ravus nods, and then gestures towards the exit. ‘Let us leave,’ he says, and Ignis could not agree more.

*

The journey leaving the Keep and the destroyed remants of Niflheim is uneventful. The airship carries them far, far away, and if Ignis never sees it again he is more than all right with that. The journey is spent in a hushed silence, and there is no sense of jubilation that they have triumphed over the ultimate evil. Instead, there is a simple sadness.

Ignis knows that Noctis is struggling to come to terms with the fact that he has now replaced the Progenitor King, and the fount of power within him is enormous. As a precaution, he has not allowed anyone to feed from him until he’s worked out that it’s safe to do so.

He finds out that Ravus is a sweetly thoughtful alpha. He’s tried to make himself scarce when Ignis is around the others, as if trying to give them some time alone. Ignis finds it adorably foolish, since there is no need to do so. But he is grateful that Ravus knows exactly what those three men mean to him, and Ignis only wishes that Ravus knows what he means to Ignis.

Ravus is Ignis’s bonded alpha, and the father of his child. He knows it probably doesn’t sit right with him to leave his omega alone with alphas that he does not have an official bond with. He’s fighting his own bonded alpha instincts, and Ignis is grateful for his thoughtfulness.

He tries to make up for it by making sure that no matter what, he goes to bed every morning in Ravus’s arms.

They arrive back in Insomnia on one foggy, quiet night.

The Citadel is as beautiful and statuesque as always, with its dignified black marble and golden lights. It has not changed even the slightest, which is such a strange juxtaposition considering that everything inside of Ignis has shifted and transformed, for better or worse.

His room in the apartment they share has not changed either. The bed is neatly made and pillows plumped just like the last time he had walked in for the last time. He never genuinely considered the possibility he might actually see his room again, and the rush of unfathomable relief, and the stark sorrow that swamps his body actually has him folding his face into his hands and weeping quietly for the man that was lost within the space of months.

The old Ignis who lived inside this apartment in no more, and in its place is someone slightly older, wiser from the sum of his agonizing experiences. Broken, and the pieces of his soul that he had clumsily pieced together has enormous cracks that he doesn’t even know how to begin to patch. He weeps for the part of him that has died in the fire that consumed all of him.

Ravus puts an arm around his waist, and draws him close. ‘Ignis,’ he says, quiet hesitation in his voice. ‘If you wish, I can stay somewhere else, so you … so you and your pack-’

‘Don’t be silly, Ravus,’ Ignis says. ‘You’ll stay with me in my room. There’s more than enough space in this apartment for us all. We can … coexist. If that is something you are comfortable with.’

Ravus gently flicks aside at an errant strand of Ignis’s hair. ‘You know how I feel about you,’ he says quietly.

Ignis lifts his face for Ravus to press a kiss onto his lips.

Ignis settles in back into his room, as Ravus departs to make contact with Lunafreya, whie Gladiolus and Prompto have volunteered to show him around and assist in the arrangements he needs to receive and settle his people. That left only one person left in the apartment with him, and Ignis waits patiently.

In the mean time, he tortures himself thinking, and trying to accept the fact that it was not him who severed the soul bond between them, but Ardyn. He doesn’t know what to think of that.

There is a knock at the door. Terse, and cautious.

Noctis never used to be that careful. He had been a confident man at the apex of his masculinity and power, and he was the leader of his pack. He was the prince, and he was well-loved and well-respected within the coven itself. He held domain over all they stood on, and he would often walk into Ignis’s room like it belonged to him. And technically, it did.

‘Come in,’ Ignis says. He waits until Noctis is sitting in the armchair opposite the bed. Ignis leans slightly forward, elbows balanced on his knees, his hands linked under his chin. ‘Your Majesty,’ Ignis says, almost like he is testing how the words sit on his tongue. 

Noctis reaches out. Slowly, warily.

Ignis closes his eyes, and leans his cheek into the warmth of Noctis’s hand. ‘Will you … tell me everything that’s happened? How is it that you are the king now?’

‘Could I show you instead?’ Noctis offers, and bares his neck when Ignis nods.

Ignis walks up to Noctis and positions himself in his lap, making himself comfortable before he massages that spot between the juncture of Noctis’s shoulder and neck. Then he bites down, and drinks.

He dives into Noctis’s memories, and sees what happened since he had left the Citadel and boarded the one-way airship to Gralea. Regis had intentionally kept Noctis asleep for the next two nights. When Noctis finally awakes, he has to be restrained and is put under house-arrest in the apartment. When he does try to leave the apartment against orders, he’s shocked that it is Gladiolus who restrains him instead, and it sparks enough of a dog-fight that Prompto has to actually get in-between them and order them down using the omega commands.

It is a sorry situation, but Noctis ends up staying put because he has no other choice. Everyone is watching him too closely, as if he is a ticking time bomb. And it’s not until Noctis finally calms down and thinks clearly that he’s allowed out of the apartment.

He moves like a zombie in Insomnia. Dead on the inside, but seemingly alive to everyone. Every single day Prompto shuts himself in the room and Noctis can hear him sobbing in guilt and worry, and Gladiolus does his duties, but he is a shadow of his former self. His eyes are blank and dead, and he retreats into himself, never wanting to speak more than a few words at a time. Those easy smiles are gone, and that camaderie between all of them broken.

Ignis was the glue that held them all together. With him gone, they were untethered, loose. No one to mother them, no one to cook, no one to put their selfish needs above his own. Without him, they could never be truly happy.

Noctis walks around in a fugue state until one day, during a council meeting, he smells Ignis.

The meeting has just finished and the members are exiting the chambers when Noctis smells the faintest whiff of Ignis’s scent. His omega scent – just that tinge of vanilla in the air.

No one else seems to.

He wonders if it has something to do with Drautos’s recent, more frequent disappearances. And the fact that Niflheim caught wind of the existence of two omegas so quickly meant that there was a mole in their midst.

Noctis followed Drautos discreetly, at a distance.

Gladiolus in turn followed Noctis, albeit reluctantly. When Drautos returned to his office and closed the door, Noctis stopped. ‘Do you smell that?’

Gladiolus looked at him impatiently. ‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

Gladiolus sniffs the faint, fading notes in the air. Focuses. Inhales again. ‘Iggy,’ he breathes.

But even as he plots his move, Drautos disappears. The fury and the helplessness has transformed into action, partly because it is easier.

He goes to his father, and pleads for him to be allowed to do what he needs. Regis agrees, on one condition – if Noctis can defeat him in combat. Regis doesn’t take it easy on him, and Noctis takes punishment after punishment. But he keeps going, because there is only one name reverberating in his mind, and in his heart.

Ignis.

Noctis forces his sword against his father’s neck, and Regis finally relents. To Noctis’s shock he hands over the Ring of the Lucii, and tells him that he is ready to step down. Lucis must have a new protector, and he demands for Noctis to come home safely. Noctis accepts this charge with grace, and with Prompto and Gladiolus in tow, they set collect as many royal arms as they can, and set across the sea.

They are en route to Gralea when they receive Ravus Nox Fleuret’s message that Ignis is in Tenebrae. Noctis insists on heading there, when Ravus manages to intercept them once more, but this time, in person. He explains how Ardyn has invaded Tenebrae and destroyed everything in sight, and Ignis has been taken away.

The four of them head towards the Keep, where they play Ardyn’s game and they do all they can to find Ignis. His heart is drenched with fear as the nights blend into each other, and Ignis is nowhere to be found.

Then he sees how the agony and the pain from breaking the soul bond between Ignis and Ardyn is enough to send them both into a death-like stupor, but it is enough time for Noctis to hit Ardyn for all he has. And as Ardyn winks ever close to a true death, Noctis feels something inside of him dying as well. He watches as Prompto falls to the ground, and Gladio, who has tried to reach out to grab him, fall as well. Ravus is on his knees, and Noctis knows he must do something. He hears Ignis’s voice echo inside of him.

Noctis plunges his hand into Ardyn’s heart and grasps the bleeding, pulsing core inside of him, and puts it inside his own body. He feels the unbelievable rush of power inside of him, and knows instantly that he is changed forever.

He goes over to an unconscious Ignis, afraid, confused, having no idea what happened to him. In a desperate bid to find out, he lifts Ignis up into his arms, and bites down on his exposed neck.

In the present, Ignis’s eyes flutter open as he draws closer to Noctis, so close that their bodies are flushed together. He presses a kiss onto Noctis’s tightly pursed lips.

‘I saw everything,’ Noctis admits, pain in his eyes. ‘I saw what you went through in Gralea. And Ignis, I don’t know if I can ever … if you can ever forgive us. Me. For not protecting you. For letting you go through all of that. Ardyn. Glauca. I want them to die a thousand deaths.’

‘Noctis,’ Ignis begins, but Noctis’s beautiful face is contorted in fury.

‘I hate what happened to you, Ignis. They … we … fuck!’ Noctis’s words are failing him. But it is clear that he is supremely angry with himself most of all, despite none of it being his fault.

Ignis pulls him close. ‘Noctis … it’s all right. I’m just glad to be home. To be back here. Safe. And with you.’

Noctis doesn’t say anything, merely rests his forehead against Ignis’s chest.

‘And … if it’s not too late, I still want to complete my bonds with all of you.’

Noctis lifts his head, hope in his eyes. ‘What?’

Ignis uncharacteristically fumbles for words. ‘I know I’m bonded to Ravus already, but … this is all I wanted my entire life. To be yours. And Gladio’s, and Prompto’s. Is it … even possible? I know I’ve been tainted and—’

‘Don’t you even say that, Ignis,’ Noctis chides him angrily. ‘You’re still my Ignis, and that won’t change. I would be honored if you would complete the soul bond with me. With us. There’s an empty space just in here,’ Noctis thumps his fist against his breastbone, and Ignis’s breath catches. ‘And I won’t be complete until I have you inside of me again. And I don’t care if we’re not allowed to. I won’t let anything stop us this time. If you’ll have us, Ignis, there is nothing more I would love.’

Ignis breathes out the sigh of relief that he didn’t even known he has been holding. ‘I would like that,’ he says quietly, resolutely. 


	26. Completion

That morning, he broaches the topic with Ravus. But it is easier than expected, perhaps because Ravus has already anticpated what he would do.

In a way, it makes Ignis feel rather guilty, but he vows to make up for it. Ravus is an easy man to love, and Ignis is already halfway there. He makes a silent promise to always make sure he can balance himself between these two disparate parties. After all, this man is the father of his child, and that is a connection that can never sever no mater what.

They’ve already hammered out a rough schedule – it’s not fixed, but in his eyes, it will be fair for all parties involved. He spends four days with Ravus, and remaining three with his pack. It’s not perfect, but it will do as a start. He knows that Gladio, Prompto and Noctis have each other, while Ravus only has Ignis. That will probably change when their child arrives, but for now, it will do.

All the men he loves seem amenable to this solution, and for that, Ignis must be thankful.

Since his return to Insomnia, there have been some mornings where he has utterly feared the prospect of going to sleep. He is terrified he is going to wake up and there will be Ardyn next to him, or someone inside of him, treating him like a ragdoll.

But not today. Today he is curled up in Ravus’s arms, and he’s in a mood before his bonding the next night with his pack. He never really used to have the habit of shedding his clothes before bed, but now that someone has been sharing his bed every night for months now, Ignis has picked up Ravus’s habit of bare skin against sheets.

They kiss each other quietly, softly, and Ravus’s hand drifts downwards to Ignis’s stomach, where there is the beginnings of a curve on his once-flat stomach. He caresses it with so much love, Ignis is quite certain that he will be a wonderful father.

Then those fingers drift a little lower, and he presses them against Ignis’s opening, fingertips stroking the wetness that’s leaking out of Ignis and down his thighs. He arches into the sensation, and spreads his legs open. He likes the way Ravus pulls him in closer, and how the back of his thighs slide wetly down Ravus’s hips.

Ravus’s breath catches, and Ignis presses forward until he has rolled right on top of Ravus. He can feel Ravus’s smile against his lips, and those long, graceful fingers curled around his hips. ‘You’re in a mood today.’

‘I am,’ Ignis says, then leans down to capture Ravus’s bottom lip with his own.

Ravus works quietly and efficiently, one hand on Ignis’s cock, and two fingers inside of him. Ignis moans, and rests his weight on his elbows and knees balanced on either side of Ravus, letting his mouth indulge in the sweet taste of Ravus’s. He sucked on Ravus’s tongue, and drew a little blood, enjoying the nice tang sliding down his throat, while those fingers worked him open.

Ignis’s eyes flutter closed when Ravus’s hand tightens his hold, thumbing at his slit and sliding pre-come and slick all over the shaft. Ignis gasps and thrusts into his grip, rolling his hips. Ravus whips him to the very edge of an orgasm, but does not permit him to come. ‘Patience, my darling.’

He hooks one leg around the back of Ignis’s ankle and sends him tumbling onto his back. Ignis hitches his legs high up on Ravus’s hips. Ravus thrusts in so hard that a scream is ripped out of Ignis.

Ravus is a quick study, and knows that by adjusting his angle he is able to slam through Ignis’s sweet spot, making him feel like he is losing all control with the way pleasure simply glides through him like an unstoppable hurricane. His cock is hard and weeping, trapped between their bellies.

Ignis holds on, his fingernails clawing into Ravus’s skin as Ravus sets up a thrusting rhythm that is both brutal and punishing, hammering at Ignis until all he can do is float along until the pleasure crests and he crashes down into a seemingly endless spiral, culminating in all his muscles stiffening.

He releases a long groan and throws his head back against the pillow even as Ravus rides him until he orgasms, spasming in Ignis’s arms encircled tightly around him. Ravus’s knot blooms, even though there was no need to, but Ignis doesn’t mind. He relishes the sensation of being filled up to the brim, and Ravus shifts, spooning Ignis so they would be comfortable. His knot will not subside for a while, and Ignis is content to go to sleep like that.

‘Ravus,’ Ignis says quietly.

‘Hmm?’ He knows from that tone of voice that Ravus is beginning to slip into sleep.

‘Are you truly all right with what I’m doing tomorrow?’

‘Ignis, I’ve seen what they mean to you,’ Ravus murmurs against his hair. ‘I very much doubt you would feel complete without sealing your half-bonds with them.’

‘But I don’t want you to feel like … I’m picking them over you.’

‘I … don’t. At least, I don’t think I am.’

‘It doesn’t bother you?’

Ignis can feel that smile against his head. ‘I wouldn’t quite say that. But I’ll deal with it,’ Ravus says. ‘I’d rather share you than … nothing.’

Ignis squeezes Ravus’s hand that is pressed lightly against his abdomen. ‘Thank you.’

Ravus has already drifted off to sleep.

*

For no reason other than that he is an insane masochist, he has chosen to form bonds individually with the three men he loves. Instead of all of the pain arriving in one blinding burst that will most likely knock him out, he is choosing to do it three separate times.

But pain is nothing for him. He has formed two other soul bonds before, and has even severed one. Nothing can be worse than that.

And he wanted to examine each and every one of the men he loves, hold them in his arms, and feel the bond shatter his soul before reforming into something stronger, more unbreakable.

He can sense that Prompto is nervous about this. He is sensitive to pain, and is afraid to encounter the agony again when he had already done it only once. So when Ignis rises in the evening the next day, he settles down to a warming bath, and invites Prompto into the water.

They don’t really do anything for a while. They don’t even talk. Ignis can sense Prompto’s guilt, and his regret over how everything has gone down. He understands Prompto perfectly, even if they do not exchange any words.

If Ignis had been the one the stay in Insomnia … what would he have done?

Would he stew in his own helplessness, knowing that he was that close to avoiding the fate of being the second omega in the coven?

He watches as Prompto drew closer to him, tentatively. His finger reaches out to gently poke at Ignis’s abdomen. There is a slight distension there, nothing too obvious, but it is a sure sign that his child is growing strong inside of him. He isn’t surprised by Prompto’s curiosity, because ultimately this will be his fate too.

That gentle prodding becomes long, lazy strokes, Prompto’s eyes firing with marvel and awe. Ignis leans closer to rest his head on Prompto’s shoulder, enjoying the light, loving strokes of his hand.

‘Iggy … I’m sorry.’ Prompto’s apology is like a breathy sigh, full of fear and guilt. Ignis captures his wandering hand, and brings it up to his lips. He kisses those wet fingers, and closes his eyes.

‘I’m all right, Prompto,’ he says. And he is. He isn’t lying. He knows it is a long road to recovery and that perhaps he will never again be truly the Ignis that existed before his journey to Gralea, but he doesn’t mind the man he has become. He feels things more strongly now – anger, frustration, bitterness. But also joy and contentment too. He will heal, because he is stronger than his own demons.

‘How would you like me tonight?’ Prompto asks, kissing Ignis sweetly on the mouth, feather-light kisses against his lips, his jaw, his closed eyes.

‘I don’t care either way, my love,’ Ignis says, and Prompto clambers onto his lap, almost eager to please. As if he can carry out his penance this way.

But Ignis will show him it isn’t necessary. Ignis will love him and fill him up until there is no room inside of him for guilt or remorse. Their wet skins slap against each other as Prompto curls his arms around Ignis’s neck. 

Ignis’s hand drift downward, kneading the globes of Prompto’s trim buttocks with his hands. When he inserts one finger, he practically slides in with all the slickness and wetness all around them. Inside the steamed up bathroom, Ignis can smell their mingling scents of vanilla and flowers, and there is something heady and pleasant about it. Ignis doesn’t find that Prompto’s omega scent drives him into an utter primal frenzy and instead he likes the fact that he can still keep his wits about him and is not reduced to a mere animal.

He can take all his time, and he wants to make Prompto scream until his throat is hoarse.

He uses his long fingers and pull them up nice and slow, knowing that he is doing something right when Prompto bucks against his hand, his hips arching. Rivulets of bath water is sluicing down his beautifully slim, compact body with its tight muscles, and Prompto is open and beautiful, like a blooming flower writhing under his hand. And he smells like one too.

Ignis puts a third finger in and twists hard, and Prompto positively keens, bouncing in his lap. His cock is unbearably hard, jutting against Ignis’s abdomen. ‘Iggy!’ Prompto gasps. ‘Stop messing about already, I wanted you inside me, ten seconds ago.’

Ignis laughs appreciatively at Prompto’s honest desperation, but he wants to drive Prompto to the edge. His fingers keep fucking that tight little hole, tapping his prostate as he goes, until Prompto is sobbing senselessly, begging and pleading incoherently, unable to even verbalize what he wants.

But Ignis knows what he wants. And he loses himself in the depths of those beautifully unfocused violet eyes as he removes his fingers and spears Prompto on his waiting cock until he is fully seated inside of Prompto.

It is unbearably tight in there, and it is like someone has a vise around Ignis’s cock.

He loves the sounds that Prompto screams out, his body already fucking itself up and down wantonly. But he can barely appreciate it when the drag and pull of heat and pressure on his cock renders what is left of his mind into mush. Prompto is like an insatiable bunny who can’t stop fucking himself, and the orgasm is ripped out of Ignis much sooner than he would like. Prompto comes with a scream, shooting his spend all over the both of them before he slumps onto Ignis’s chest.

They give each other about five minutes before Prompto bites down on the flesh of his neck. It is a little unexpected and surprises a gasp out of Ignis, who surrenders to the pleasure of Prompto drinking from him.

And then when he is ready, he bites down as well.

Deep inside of him, the bond seals together and reverberates outwards in a powerful blast. Ignis blinks out for a moment when the pain hits him, but he breathes through it and huffs and holds Prompto close to his chest as he screams and heaves. He waits until Prompto settles into stillness before he lets go.

‘Fuck the Astrals, I hope never to do that again,’ Prompto says, panting.

‘And you never have to,’ Ignis says, smiling. ‘You did well, my love.’ He rewards Prompto with a sweet, long kiss. The bond between him and Prompto is pulsing strongly.

‘I feel complete,’ Prompto says, closing his eyes and fluttering his fingers against his own breastbone. Your bond is so pretty, Iggy.’

‘It is?’ Iggy smiles.

‘Yes. It’s the shade of your eyes, actually. It’s pulsing, and it’s alive. I really like it.’

Ignis closes his own eyes and feels his own. His and Prompto’s soul bond is a bright golden inside of him, the shade of his hair; of the glaring sun, once upon a time when he was still human.

They hold each other for a while.

An eternity later, he lifts his head, and sends the man leaning against the doorway a sly glance. ‘How long have you been watching, you dirty voyeur?’

‘Not long enough, sadly,’ Gladiolus grins irrepressibly. ‘I didn’t know omega-on-omega action could be so hot.’ His long legs stride forward, and he leans his elbows on the edge of the tub.

Prompto groans and stirs.

Gladiolus draws a wet finger against Prompto’s back. ‘I would like nothing more than to fuck the both of you like this, when you’re tired and all fucked out.’

‘Shit, no,’ Prompto says.

‘I thought so,’ Gladio answers. ‘And besides, there is something else I have to do.’

Prompto stretches his long arms upwards and yawns. ‘He’s all yours, big guy.’

Gladiolus splashes some water into Prompto’s face, and turns to Ignis. ‘Let me get this one settled, and I’ll be back for you, Iggy.’

‘Take your time.’

He watches as Gladiolus picks up a towel, slides his massive hands underneath Prompto’s naked body, and lifts him from the water. Prompto snuggles close, and Gladio’s footsteps move away from the bathroom to farther down the hall.

Ignis rests his eyes for a while, but opens them when he hears Gladio’s footsteps stop right next to his head. ‘Your turn, Iggy.’

He lifts his arms and lets Gladiolus carry him into his bedroom.

‘Want to go to my bedroom instead?’ Gladio offers.

‘Why?’

‘Well, I don’t know if Ravus will like having another alpha scent in the room …’ Gladio says uncertainly.

‘I think he’ll be fine with it, but we can use your room instead if it makes you feel more comfortable.’ Ignis senses some awkwardness within Gladio. ‘Do you not like Ravus?’

‘Well, not really. I admire him. But he seems like such a stick-in-the-mud. Too serious for his own good.’

Ignis laughs heartily. ‘Isn’t that what you said about me when we first met?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Gladio grins, and deposits Ignis down onto the covers of Gladio’s own bed. ‘But I like him well enough. I just don’t know enough about him.’

‘He’s a kind man,’ Ignis says. ‘A loving one. I … have feelings for him.’

‘I can tell,’ Gladio says, his gaze softening. ‘I don’t know if we get along, but there’s one thing I definitely know – I will always be grateful to him for the care he extended to you in whatever capacity.’

‘I am too,’ Ignis says.

‘You’ve done so well,’ Gladio praises him, and suddenly Ignis stops smiling. ‘You’re beautiful, Iggy.’

Ignis tries to smile at that, he really does. But some days he doesn’t feel beautiful. He feels scarred, and he feels broken. His mind roils with pain and turmoil. Instead of saying all that, shockingly, his eyes begin tearing up instead.

Gladio looks at him with deep understanding. He wipes Ignis’s silent tears away with his thumb. ‘You’ve been so brave, my darling. So brave and resilient. I know you feel like you have to put up a façade in front of the others, but you never have to do so with me.’

Ignis sobs quietly into Gladiolus broad chest. This man is his best friend, and despite their disparate personalities, there is no one who is more like Ignis. Their devotion to duty is only superseded by their love for Noctis. Ignis has made a sacrifice to protect the men his loves, and Gladiolus understands the implications and the consequences of that choice the most.

It’s not that the others do not understand the depth of his sacrifice, but they are too mired in their own guilt. Gladiolus has no such qualms, because he alone knew that it was Ignis who made the decision, and would not take that away from him. The cards had fallen where they lay, and there was no point in feeling remorse or guilt. There is only one way forward.

‘I’m always afraid,’ Ignis admits. ‘When I wake up, I’m afraid he’s there with me again. And … I hate him so much. But there is a part of me that wanted him desperately too.’

‘The part of you where you bonded with him,’ Gladio supplies. ‘This is normal, Iggy.’

‘He did such terrible things,’ Ignis says. ‘And in the end, he was the one who broke the bond, when that was my place to do so, my right! He took that away from me, that fucking bastard.’ The helplessness he feels that it is him in Ardyn’s debt slays at him. 

There is no real answer for his dilemma, so Ignis is grateful that Gladio simply holds him.

‘I’ll always be here for you, Iggy. You never have to pretend with me,’ Gladio promises him, and squeezes him so tight that for a moment, it hurts. He wants Gladio to crush him with his strength, and rid Ignis’s mind of all thoughts until he is pliant and soft with love.

But it feels good to have Gladio’s bulk, and his steadfastness behind Ignis. He knows that Gladio will always be there to hold him up. Always.

Ignis slides onto the cool sheets of the bed, and hoists himself up on elbows and knees, presenting his body to Gladio. ‘I love you, Gladio. I want you to fuck me right now.’

‘You don’t have to ask twice,’ Gladio says, his voice rough with desire and he strips down to his skin.

‘I want it hard,’ Ignis said. Hard and fast and rough, because he’s in the mood for it.

‘Of course,’ Gladio acquiesces easily enough, but he lowers his mouth to Iggy’s sensitive thigh, and nibbles the tender skin there. Ignis squirms and jolts, but Gladio holds him in place. ‘Stay, and don’t move.’

Ignis surrenders to the command, and does his best to hold his muscles still. His elbows are anchored nicely, braced against his own weight. His eyes flutter closed, and lets his senses follow the sensations of Gladio’s mouth marking a path from his inner thigh, higher and higher until his tongue is licking at his entrance.

Ignis’s knees tremble once, and he jerks. Gladio punishes him with a light slap to the buttocks, and Ignis gasps, feeling his used cock roar to life, now awake and eagerly looking around for more. ‘More,’ he says.

‘Shhh,’ Gladio whispers against his skin, his tongue rimming his entrance, licking up the slick that is rapidly emerging from his highly aroused body. Thick fingers follow that tongue, and Ignis jolts again, earning another slap on the other side. ‘Don’t be so greedy, darling.’

Ignis holds himself still as those fingers begin to curl inside of him, reaching his sweet spot easily and nudging slyly. He bites down on the moan that threatens to emerge out of him.

‘You’re pouring,’ Gladio says, his voice filled with wonder. ‘You are such a beautiful omega, don’t you know that? Strong and gorgeous and powerful.’ His fingers twist, and Ignis clenches his fists as pressure begins to build inside his belly.

Two fingers become three, and the pain is balanced with the pleasure and it is all Ignis can do not to cry out at the sweetly hellish sensations. He yearns for the moment when Gladio replaces his fingers with his fat cock and pounds into him, but he knows he must be patient right now so he will get the reward he justly deserves if he behaves.

His thighs are shaking almost uncontrollably as he tries to fight the pleasure that swamps him, and behind him Gladiolus shows no sign of wanting to stop anytime soon. ‘Gladio …’ Ignis pleads.

‘Patience, my love,’ Gladio says.

‘Anymore patience and I’m going to come on my own,’ Ignis threatens.

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Gladiolus says, laughing against his thigh. ‘You wouldn’t, Iggy. And you know why I know that?’

‘Why?’ Ignis says, almost crankily.

‘Because you know if you wait, this orgasm is going to blow you right out of your mind.’

Ignis groaned, and held himself a little stiffer. ‘I’m going to get you back for this, Gladio.’

‘I know you will,’ Gladio says. ‘And I’m looking forward to it. Tell me what you’re going to do to me.’

Ignis groaned again, battling the urge to collapse onto his belly. ‘I want you on your knees for me, Gladio. Putting my cock in your mouth and ahhh!’ Ignis shouts as Gladio pushes in with a fourth finger, and he feels unbearably full. It doesn’t help that his ass is twitching and his hips swaying, the words having disappeared inside his swirling mind.

‘Yeah?’ Gladio asks casually. ‘You’d fuck my face, Iggy? You’d come all over my face?’

‘Yes!’ Ignis grunts. ‘I’d tie your hands behind your back, and if you moved when I fucked you, you’d get a whip to the back.’

‘That’s hot …’ Gladio proves that he’s not as immune as he pretends to be when he grunts long and hard as Ignis bucks into his hand rather impatiently. ‘Shit, Iggy.’

‘Get your cock into me or I’m going to do it myself,’ Iggy warns, feeling the pressure in his belly beginning to approach a point of no return. Something about his pregnancy has made his body a little more sensitive than usual, so when Gladio tweaks his nipples he practically sees stars behind his eyes and he’s panting like he’s in heat.

Thankfully Gladio doesn’t keep him waiting too long after that, and shoves into him so hard that Ignis topples onto the mattress at the force of impact. Gladiolus practically hammers him into the sheets, forcing Ignis’s thighs to stay open with his hands imprinted against his legs.

Ignis comes, white ropey strands of come spluttering all over the sheets under him, and he groans and falls completely onto his tummy, all the strength in his body having fled him. Behind him, Gladio is still drilling away, and he bends closer to clamp his mouth onto the fleshy part of his shoulder. His teeth tear into skin, and he drinks.

He is filled up to the brim when Gladio orgasms, his cock twitching inside of Ignis. The way Gladio is taking his blood is stimulating his already over-sensitive body, and it is too much, too soon. His body seizes up under Gladio’s, and responding to whatever stimuli that is shoved in front of him, including the wrist that Gladio thrusts under his nose.

Ignis bites down, and just as he feels Gladio stiffen up behind him, and groans, he looks inside himself to find that half-completed bond inside of him. Next to the pulsing yellow light, he finds the thread of purple, and knows instantly who it belongs to. He grasps at it just as Gladio initiates the completion of the bond, and this time, Ignis is such an old hat at this he is able to lean into the pain and embrace it for the possibility it poses for his future.

Gladiolus’s entire body weight collapses onto his back, and Ignis flattens himself with a grunt. He feels Gladio’s arm curl around his chest, holding him close. For a while Ignis listens to their synchronized breathing. ‘You are my heart, Iggy,’ Gladio whispers against his neck. ‘And I cannot tell you how much I’ve missed you.’

‘I’m just glad I made it back to you. All of you.’

‘And I am immensely grateful for it,’ Gladio murmurs.

They drift into a nap, and when Ignis opens his eyes when he feels the weight of a knee press down on the mattress. He feels that hand that smooths his hair back before he even sees his beloved’s face appear above him.

‘I see that Gladio’s trying to crush you to death,’ Noctis smiles, but Ignis can tell that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He knows that out of all three of them, Noctis’s feelings for him are the most complicated. He blames himself for not being able to protect Ignis when he has needed it the most, but Ignis is afraid he doesn’t quite understand.

He is simply overjoyed that they came to find him. And did find him, in the end.

Gladiolus rolls off him, pressing a kiss onto Ignis’s lips. Ignis feels a deep sense of satiation, now that he had another bonded alpha nearby, and one that he loves deeply. It is like a warm hug wrapped around him all the time.

Noctis keeps his gaze fixed on Ignis’s. ‘Gladio, mind if I steal Iggy out of your hands?’

‘This game of Pass-the-Iggy is real fun,’ Gladio remarks, and smacks his meaty hand against Ignis’s bottom, startling a groan out of him. ‘It’s your own damn fault for wanting to do this separately instead of all at once.’

Noctis twirls a finger around a strand of his hair, and tugs gently. ‘What do you say, Iggy? Can I steal you away and keep you in my room?’

‘My prince charming,’ Ignis says, and lifts his arms. He is being thoroughly spoiled by his men, and … it feels nice. Since his return to Insomnia, he hasn’t been asked to return to his duties, which leaves him with a lot of time on his hands. He doesn’t want to rush back into work either, because there is a part of him that acknowledges that he needs time for himself, to heal. To feel safe. To explore his new identity.

Noctis hauls him up, and it startles a chuckle out of him. Where Gladio picked him up in a princess-carry, Noctis simply throws him over his shoulder. He knows Noctis does not enjoy carrying him because Ignis is taller and outweighs him – by just a little.

They walk across the hall, and Noctis dumps him down on the bed before falling on top of him. ‘Mmm,’ Noctis murmurs against Ignis’s bare skin. He closes his eyes, and nuzzles in. Noctis is still wearing the suit that he usually wears to work.

‘Done with work for today?’ Ignis asks.

‘Yes,’ Noctis answers.

Ignis’s brow frowns. ‘Rather early, I’d say.’ It is just past midnight.

‘Well, I could barely keep my mind on work when I knew exactly what you would be up to in our home. And when Gladio left, it was all over. All I could do was picture in my head what he would be doing to you, and believe me, my imagination ran wild.’

‘It was all that you thought it would be,’ Ignis teases. ‘And more.’

Noctis lifts his head. ‘Yes, I can see that. I can smell Gladio all over you. And a little bit of Prompto too. Faint, though. So I can imagine what you’ve been doing.’

‘We had a bath together’ Ignis says, in his sultriest voice. ‘That accounts for the faintness in Prompto’s scent, perhaps.’

‘But not Gladio,’ Noctis whispers, his voice dropping down low and husky, and in such a masculine, sexy way that Ignis is reminded once again, that the man he loves is no longer a boy, but a man.

‘Not Gladio,’ Ignis confirms. ‘He’s still inside of me.’

Noctis only hums in response, but his hands drift down to the curve of Ignis’s ass. ‘I should check.’

‘Mmm.’ Ignis turns onto his belly.

‘No,’ Noctis says. ‘I want you looking at me.’ He gently helps turn Ignis onto his back, and kisses the expanse of his bare skin from his shin up to his clavicle. With a sigh, he glides his cock into Ignis, who is still loose and fucked out, and the way their bodies join together is sweet and easy.

Noctis balances Ignis’s ankles on his shoulders, and gets onto his knees. Sweetly, gently, he thrusts slowly, almost torturously. He may be lacking Gladio’s overwhelming masculinity and strength, but Noctis has a focused intensity that traps him in his place, those stormy grey-blue eyes imprisoning him in the depths of his love.

No matter how tired and spent his body is, Noctis can still drag that orgasm out of him. He’s shocked that there is still something left inside, and it erupts from him with a throaty groan, dribbling down from his cock onto his own belly. But Noctis is still going, and Ignis thinks he could probably go for days.

He busies himself kissing Noctis until it drives the both of them to distraction, and feels as Noctis’s steady rhythm start to falter, his hips pistoning hard enough to slam into Ignis. Ignis tightens his arms around the man he loves. He whispers his love against Noctis’s clenched lips, and squeezes his thighs until he is milking every drop of come out of Noctis’s spasming cock.

Noctis comes with a cry, and then tightens up in his arms. He doesn’t even have to say a thing, but Ignis can feel him flag, an invisible storm cloud hovering over his head. He doesn’t have to feel the tears on his chest to know that Noctis is in significant pain.

‘I’m all right,’ Ignis reassures him. ‘I’m fine. I’m home.’

He lets Noctis have a moment.

‘Come on,’ he urges Noctis, refusing to let him dwell on the past and his own guilt for too long. ‘Come on.’ Ignis offers up his own neck willingly and lovingly, and feels his hot tears splash on the side of his cheek as Noctis bites down.

Ignis arches into the pain and the pleasure, the agony and love of their shared connection. Ignis bites back, and dives in to find that last thread inside of him. Sparkling blue and frayed, it is a half to a whole, and it seems like all his life he has wanted nothing but for this bond to seal wholly.

And now, it is a reality. It is within grasp.

Ignis grabs hold of his end, and Noctis’s end, and connect them together. The blast that radiates outwards is white-hot, and even in amidst that ensuing flash he can feel the strength of the bond pulsating between them. Whole. Complete.

And somehow, he knows that he will be fine.

He is home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to put everybody out of this self-imposed misery!!!! XDDDDD
> 
> Sometimes it does feel like I'm on a journey with the three or four of you regular commenters (you know who you are). I am sad to have to part with all of you, but please do know that I am truly appreciative of your efforts and having you part of this strange little world I've crafted. 
> 
> I hope you find some satisfaction in this ending, and that Iggy truly gets the happy ending he deserves after the ton of shit he had to wade through. Fluff and sex, sex everywhere! That is what you get for sticking with me. 
> 
> But for now, it is thank you, and goodbye!


	27. Fulfilment

_Ten years later_

Ignis awakes with a sudden jerk in his bed, cold sweat dripping down his spine. His entire body is stiff in apprehension and fear as the last vestiges of his dream slowly drain away. He can’t really remember what it is about, but he has a good idea of what it involves.

He knows that they were hands and fingers imprinting themselves on his flesh, something deep inside of him, unwanted and invasive, something he cannot dislodge. It is the pain of the past, trauma conjured up in his dreams to haunt him.

He never used to dream, not since he had been turned into a vampire. Vampires do not dream, but there is something so deep in his psyche that it ignores how he’s pushed it aside in favor of seeking to disturb his slumber.

It is irritating, but he accepts it anyway. This is yet another obstacle he will overcome in time.

He takes deep breaths, counts to ten. He focuses on his surroundings. He is in his bed. In his bedroom, in his apartment on the 68th floor. Ignis rolls over and puts his arm out, and his palm touches the cool flesh of the man sleeping beside him.

He wakes immediately, despite the earliness of the late afternoon. ‘Ignis,’ Ravus says, urgency in his voice. ‘Is everything all right?’

Ignis grips Ravus’s outstretched hand, and holds on. Ravus curls his arm around Ignis, pulls him closer to press a kiss to his temple. The simple, loving touch is enough to calm him.

‘Tell me,’ Ravus says.

‘I can feel him inside of me still,’ Ignis says. That bond might have been severed a long time ago, but it is somehow still there. ‘He’s inside of me, Ravus.’

‘He’s not,’ Ravus says carefully. ‘Repeat after me. He’s gone. He’s dead. He can’t touch you anymore.’

‘He’s dead. He can’t touch me anymore,’ Ignis whispers with a shudder.

‘You’re safe, and you’re home.’

‘I’m safe, and I’m home.’ His breaths are steadying and evening out. ‘Thank you.’

‘You don’t have to thank me,’ Ravus says. ‘I’m here for you. I love you.’

Ignis leans his head against Ravus’s bare chest. ‘I love you too, with everything I have. Sorry for waking you up.’

‘I meant to get up early anyway,’ Ravus says. ‘There’s a strange little ritual down at the 3rd floor today and I promised I would attend it.’

Ignis laughs unexpectedly. ‘That strange ritual is simply called a Father-Daughter dancing seminar. I’m sorry I won’t be able to attend it, darling.’

‘We don’t have an equivalent in Tenebrae,’ Ravus says. ‘That’s all right. I doubt that Vita cares that I’m there. She’s just excited about wearing the dress that Lunafreya bought her.’

‘Well, it’s a rather special occasion anyway. I am loath to miss it, but Noctis’s dinner function with the Altissian dignitaries is also on tonight. It’s going to be a late one, so I’ll stay over upstairs for tonight. I’ll be back the night after.’

‘I understand,’ Ravus says. ‘The king won’t be able to do without his Hand after all. Prompto said he would pick up Augustus, by the way.’

‘Right,’ Ignis says. ‘That’s immensely helpful, because that means I don’t have to make a detour to the 3rd floor.’ He looks at the clock by the bedside as he sits up in bed. It’s just a little past four in the afternoon. ‘I might just get up now, try to get an early start.’

Ravus scissored his legs around Ignis, and flips him so his back in on the bed again. He blinks up, looking at Ravus and noticing that hunger in his eyes almost immediately. ‘Darling,’ Ignis begins.

‘No,’ Ravus says. ‘You woke me up early, and this is the price you have to pay.’

Ignis chuckles against Ravus’s mouth just before his is plundered. ‘You’re a cheap date, Nox Fleuret.’ He cups the man’s cheeks tenderly, melts underneath the man’s ministrations. He loves the way Ravus’s tongue mingled with his, their bodies pressed together. It makes him feel so safe, so loved.

He is an immensely lucky man, and he feels it the most in the moments where he is physically loved by his men.

He sighs against Ravus, ready for a lazy bout of love-making. But his eyes pops open when he feels Ravus’s hand encircle his cock roughly, the way he lowered himself down and closed his mouth over Ignis.

‘Oh, fuck,’ Ignis exclaims, stunned at the speed of which Ravus is intending to fuck him up completely. And all this before a mug of coffee with freshly grinded beans. It’s getting to his head, the unexpected surge of pleasure, a hard jolt to his system that’s just waking up.

He laces his hands through Ravus’s silky hair, yanks hard on it, but Ravus will not budge. His mouth is clear in its intent – he will not release Ignis until he gets what he wants. Ignis thinks he can withstand this no problem, but then those clever fingers sneak into him, pressing and stretching until he has two fingers inside of Ignis and tapping dangerously against his prostate.

Ignis’s thighs are trembling uncontrollably by now, and the moans are coming furiously from his lips. Ravus knows his body inside out, to its every pore and every nerve that can bring him pleasure and delight. There is no point fighting it, so Ignis folds against the dual assault that he is under.

He comes with a breathless gasp, a silent scream as his entire body tightens once, then relaxes into a convulsion as the tingling from his belly explodes into a starburst of ecstasy. When he finally comes back to himself he can feel Ravus licking his skin, licking up the slick and come that coats his nether regions, and Ignis groans.

‘You’re going to be the death of me, Ravus,’ Ignis complains.

‘You can be the first vampire to die of sex, I guess,’ Ravus says in his typically deadpan manner. Ignis yanks Ravus up on himself with a hard pull, and he can feel their heated skins rubbing together, creating a delicious friction that sends a shudder up his spine. He thought he was done, but his body has other ideas.

‘Come on, my darling,’ Ignis purrs against Ravus’s neck, and relishes that deep-seated, tortured groan that Ravus breathes against him. Ignis guides Ravus’s hard cock towards that wet, warm place between his spread, relaxed thighs, and gasps with delight when Ravus spears him hard.

He hooks his arms around his mate as if to pull him closer, deeper inside, and the sheer thought of the possibility that the man could go deeper inside of him was enough to tighten all his muscles, dragging a groan out of Ravus.

‘I love you,’ Ravus says, even as he’s setting up a rigorous rhythm that makes Ignis’s eyes roll to the back of his head and his toes curl. He’s fucked so hard that his head is almost bouncing against the headboard, and he can do nothing but dig his fingernails into the man’s back.

He loves the way he was being held. Loves the way Ravus can fuck him until his brains drains out of his ears. Loves the way he feels so safe with this man, who had saved him so long ago.

Ignis lets the fist of pleasure clench again in the base of his tummy, and there are starbursts in the back of his closed lids before his thighs quiver in the ecstasy of release. Ravus is not far behind, and he collapses on top of Ignis, who eagerly embraces him, loving the way Ravus still jolts a little, sensitive after his own orgasm.

When Ravus is able to, he rolls off Ignis, drops his head on his pillow. ‘That’s a little too crazy for a school day.’

Ignis chuckles. He gently pushes a lock of Ravus’s hair aside, caresses his skin. With gratitude, then love that was born from that.

Ravus turns to look at him with such adoration in his eyes, before he closes them.

‘That day … what made you come for me?’ Ignis says, and Ravus opens his eyes.

‘What?’ he asks, baffled.

‘That day when Ardyn went insane and started killing everyone. You must have realized that your own life was in danger. What made you come for me? You could have just left.’

‘Oh, that,’ Ravus says. Then he drifts off, as if he’s lost himself in the memory for a moment. His features soften visibly. ‘I couldn’t leave you behind.’

‘I was nothing to you,’ Ignis says. The only thing they had shared at that point was a transaction that had been conducted under duress. Ignis gave his body; Ravus gave his blood.

Ravus closes his eyes, buries his nose against Ignis’s neck. ‘It was your eyes.’

‘My _what_?’ Ignis wonders if he has misheard.

‘Your eyes,’ Ravus says as if embarrassed. ‘The first time I touched you, there was such a fire in your eyes. Fury, I thought at first. But I realized later it was defiance. You weren’t going to lie down and take the shit Ardyn and Drautos were throwing at you. You fought back. You were clever and brilliant, and you used your wits.’

‘So … you came back to save me because you thought I was clever?’ Ignis teases, trying to hide the embarrassment that he felt from Ravus’s unexpected honesty.

‘I … think I fell for you a little bit then,’ Ravus says. ‘And I’m going to stop talking now, because this is becoming rather mortifying.’

‘Yes, please do,’ Ignis says. They are affectionate with each other, but rarely sentimental. Although Ignis feels a little embarrassed, he also feels his heart warm.

He seeks Ravus’s mouth, and they share a kiss that Ignis tries to infuse with gratitude and the knowledge that he is loved beyond belief by this man, that their destinities were bound together at an unfortunate time in his life, but has since transcended and bloomed into something else entirely.

Ignis’s day turns out to be packed. Once he is up and dressed, he leaves Vita and Augustus in Ravus’s care, and heads upstairs to the apartment that he shares with his three other mates. Apartment was an understatement, considering the way they had taken up the entirety of the 69th floor with their growing brood.

There are four children between Noctis, Prompto and Gladio, while Ravus and Ignis have two on the floor below. When they are all together, it is like a madhouse. The children are growing up, and are often found fighting or playing together.

When he gets into the kitchen, the first thing he does is accept the mug of freshly brewed coffee that Prompto hands to him. ‘Thank you,’ Ignis says, and presses a brief kiss against his beloved’s cheek, noting that he seemed a little more wired than usual.

‘Have you been up all morning?’ Ignis asks suspiciously.

Prompto grins sheepishly.

‘Who was it?’ Ignis shakes his head in mild disapproval.

‘Noctis,’ Prompto answers.

Ignis groans. ‘Is he still asleep then?’

Prompto blinks at him innocently, takes a sip of his own coffee. ‘It’s not that late, Iggy. The children are still asleep.’

Ignis narrows his eyes, checks his watch. ‘I’d politely disagree,’ he says. ‘Anyways, Noctis has a big day ahead of him. The Altissian dignitaries are arriving in a couple of hours even as we speak.’

Prompto’s eyes widen. ‘Shit!’

‘Shit is correct,’ Ignis says. ‘Why hasn’t Gladio kicked him out of bed yet?’

‘Um … because Gladio’s still in bed too?’

‘What!’ Ignis is horrified. ‘Whatever the hell happened last night?’

‘Um … Noctis happened,’ Prompto said, by way of explanation.

Ignis huffs, sculls his coffee and sets to becoming the human alarm clock for his mates. He enters Gladiolus’s room first, where the man is buried under the covers. The room smells like pheromones, a heady combination of Prompto’s floral scent, with the woody scents from the alphas.

He makes a detour, goes for the windows first. Opens it to a blast of fresh night air.

‘Gladio, wake up,’ Ignis says.

Gladio grunts, but opens one eye. ‘Iggy.’

‘It’s time to get up,’ Ignis says, then leaves the room, goes down the hallway and into Noctis’s room.

The man is buried face-first in the pillows. He’s kicked off the covers, and he is completely naked, exposing the tight muscles of that ass.

Ignis huffs again. This was how his King slept. Very dignified. ‘Wake up, Noctis.’

Noctis doesn’t even twitch, let alone move.

‘Your Majesty!’ Ignis says, a little more firmly now.

Nothing.

Ignis swats his mate on his bare buttocks. ‘Noctis Lucis Caelum,’ he hisses, and a self-preserving part of Noctis’s brain must have kicked in. He lifts his head, stares blearily at Ignis as if he didn’t recognize him. ‘Oh, Iggy.’

‘Don’t “Oh Iggy” me,’ Ignis says. ‘You need to be up. We have a lot to talk about. You know we have a full schedule ahead of us before we receive the dignitaries. You should have known better than to stay up so late.’

‘It’s your fault,’ Noctis says, and the sits up, yawns widely.

Ignis narrows his eyes. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Noctis grunts quietly. ‘You heard me.’

‘Kindly explain,’ Ignis says.

Noctis considers this for a moment. Then he motion for Ignis to join him on the bed. Ignis perches his hip against the edge of the bed, but tilts off-balance when Noctis yanks him into his lap and nuzzles his neck.

‘Tell me,’ Ignis says, a little more gently this time.

‘Well … remember what happened yesterday? At work?’

‘What happened yesterday at work?’ Ignis’s brows knit together.

‘Wait, you don’t know?’ Noctis seems almost indignant.

Ignis showed Noctis his most exasperated face. ‘You have to be more specific, Noct.’

‘Well … you know how I couldn’t find the document for the blood bank approvals and you came over to my desk and started searching it?’

‘Yes?’ Ignis begins, confused.

‘Well. You were standing in my space.’ Noctis scratches his stubble.

‘Yes, I know,’ Ignis says. ‘And I felt you putting your hand on my hip before you moved it away. What about it?’

‘Hmm,’ Noctis hedges, refusing to say more. But Ignis has known this man for the better part of thirty years now.

‘You saw me bent over with my arse in your face and that’s why you fucked our mates all morning?’ Ignis says incredulously. ‘Why didn’t you tell me instead?’

‘Well, it’s your night with Ravus, so I didn’t want to intrude,’ Noctis says almost petulantly. ‘I didn’t want you worn out before Ravus could get to you.’

‘Right,’ Ignis says. ‘How … ridiculous.’

‘I was being considerate!’

‘I promise I will make it up to you tonight,’ Ignis says and slides off the bed. ‘But for now, get up.’

The people of Lucis know the king as a magnanimous, kind man. Principled, firm in his dedication to duty. A fair man, if sometimes a little on the sarcastic side.

What they don’t know is that the same king they speak of and sing praises of can also be astoundingly petulant, spoiled and oversensitive at the best of times. And save for Gladio, Ignis has known him for a very long time.

Even as Noctis pouts, Ignis turns his head away to hide his smile. He lays out Noctis’s suit for the day, and help with his grooming so he can put his best foot forward, because that it is what they will need to do for a day like today.

The brief conference with the Altissian dignitaries proceeds smoothly before they break for the day. But it isn’t over, because they have to proceed with their regular schedule. Roughly three meetings laters, the first with Noctis in his office, and the second and third with his fellow council members in the conference room, he finds himself back in the privacy of his own office, only just beginning to tackle the stack of paperwork in front of him.

His phone rings, and Ignis picks it up automatically.

‘Hello Ignis, this is Monica from the 3rd floor.’

Ignis stills his pen, leans forward. ‘Yes, Monica? Which one is it?’

‘The children are all right,’ Monica begins, chuckling gently. ‘I’m sorry I had to reach you, Ignis. I couldn’t get in touch with Prompto, or Gladiolus either. You were the third on my list.’

‘That’s fine,’ Ignis says. ‘Gladio’s in the meeting with the king, and I remember Prompto being out on one of his photography assignments.’

‘Well, Seneca seems to be feeling unwell today,’ Monica says, referring to the second oldest of their pack’s brood of four, the child of Gladio and Prompto. ‘Would you mind coming to pick him up?’

‘Of course,’ Ignis says, but checks his watch. He has at least an hour to spare before he had to corral Noctis to the grand hall downstairs just in time for the ball. He had been planning to swing by the fifth floor, to the blood bank to pick up a bag of blood for himself as a quick substitute for a hunt. He found that he tended to deal with these kind of nights a little more alertly if he had a fresh infusion of blood before hand.

He closes his computer, straightens his tie and jacket before heading downstairs.

Outside Monica’s office, which is what they usually coined the principal’s office, Seneca is sitting rather despondently in one of the chairs. Ignis sighs quietly, then joins the boy. Seneca is sweet and sensitive. He has Gladio’s introspection, and sometimes Prompto’s broody quietness. But he is also responsible and focused, and has a talent for art.

He looks up when Ignis arrives, and there is a relief in his eyes. Ignis sits down next to him. ‘Who were you expecting?’

Seneca, all nine years of age, and looking like he was a sullen teenager, said, ‘Well … Daddy Prom gets mad when he has to come pick me up early. Daddy Gladio … he just like to lecture.’

Ignis chuckles quietly. ‘I’ve been told they’ve been doing early pickups with you a little more frequently lately. Are you feeling unwell?’

Seneca shrugged vaguely. The child clearly had concerns on his shoulders, and it really wasn’t hard to guess why. All vampires reached their manifestation at the age of ten, or ten years after they were turned. Just a few months ago Noctis’s and Prompto’s oldest, Astra, had been confirmed as an alpha. Shortly before that, Ignis’s and Ravus’s firstborn Vita had been declared an alpha as well.

There was no doubt Seneca was probably worrying about his own fate. Ignis preferred not to beat around the bush. ‘You’re worried that you might be an omega.’

Seneca looks at Ignis, a combination of guilt and relief on his face. He doesn’t say anything, but Ignis knows he has hit it on the head. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m not offended. I’m here if there’s any questions you have. Who better to answer questions about omegas than an omega himself, right?’ He smiled. 

‘Did you want to be one?’

‘No,’ Ignis answers honestly. ‘I always though I’d manifest into an alpha.’

‘Yeah,’ Seneca says, gulps nervously.

‘I can’t tell you if you will be one or not,’ Ignis says. ‘But what I can tell you is that I’ve made peace with my status. It took me a while, but I’m here. I’m happy, and I wouldn’t change a thing. Not when it’s brought me and Prompto all of you lovely children.’

‘Dad … Daddy Prom said you had a hard time when you became an omega. People were mean to you.’

‘They were,’ Ignis says. Bless this little boy’s heart. ‘It was a horrid time, but … there was some good from it too. I met your Uncle Ravus there. And … I learned that I’m a very strong person. Whatever it is that you’re worried about … it’s not going to be that bad. I promise you that.’

‘All right,’ Seneca says quietly.

‘Whatever it is that you become, Seneca, whether it is alpha or omega, you’re still going to be you. It won’t define you. They said that it was impossible to do anything as an omega, but your dad and I are living proof that it’s not true. Your dad is an accomplished photographer.’

‘And you are the King’s Hand.’

‘I was groomed for this role, and my biological destiny does not matter. Whatever you choose to do, Seneca, it is within your hands.’

‘All right,’ Seneca says again, this time a little more confidently.

Prompto comes hurrying down the hallway, and Seneca stiffens. ‘Dad!’

Prompto has already a raised eyebrow when he spies his child. He hurriedly eyes Ignis, presses a distracted peck to his cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Iggy. I had my phone on silent, but I came as soon as I heard.’

‘It’s all right,’ Ignis says. ‘All in a day’s work. Don’t be sorry, we’re family after all.’ Then as a quiet aside to Prompto, ‘Don’t be too hard on him. He’s worried about his own conferment.’

Prompto’s expression changes, and he tries his best to brighten up. ‘Will I see you at home tonight, Iggy?’

‘Yes,’ Ignis says. ‘But we will most likely be late. Gladio will return earlier, I’m sure, but Noct and I may have to stay a little longer.’ He gives Seneca a quick hug, and accepts the cute little smack on his own ass from Prompto as he hurries away, while Seneca isn’t looking.

‘Looking sexy,’ Prompto says quietly, then winks at Ignis. Ignis chuckles.

The rest of their night fly past. Between the official negotiations with new trade rules and unofficial diplomacy talks and random conversations about everything from their own families to the future of the vampire race, it has been a whirlwind of a night. The Altissian ambassadors were perfectly pleasant, if a little boring. But they manage to lighten up when the finest wines began to flow, and the entertainment begins in earnest.

Ignis is listening politely to one of them rambling about the taste of synthetic blood when he feels a gentle prod at his elbow. He turns, and meets Noctis’s unsmiling face. Those eyes scream boredom, even though on the surface, he looks composed and calm.

But Ignis knows his king too well. ‘Your Majesty,’ he says quietly, ready with an excuse on the tip of his tongue so they can make a quick getaway. 

‘May I have this dance?’ Noctis asks, and it throws Ignis for a loop.

‘Yes, of course,’ Ignis answers and politely excuses himself. He puts down his glass of champagne, and accepts Noctis’s hand. They settle into an easy pace, rather reminiscent of the many dance practices they had when they were much younger.

He knows people are watching, but it does not stop Noctis from pressing Ignis closer to his own body, tightening his hold around Ignis. They sway to the music. ‘I heard you went to pick up Seneca today.’

‘I did,’ Ignis says. ‘He’s a growing young man. A fine young man.’

‘Unlike Astra, you mean,’ Noctis says, referring to his first born, now the princeling heir of Lucis. The kid is brash as he is confident, stubborn as he is clever. In a way, he’s very like his kingly father, but Noctis sometimes fails to see that. He finds himself worried about Astra the same way Regis worried about Noctis.

‘He’s a good boy,’ Ignis says. ‘A fine example of his fathers.’

‘If only,’ Noctis jokes. Then he turns sober. ‘I love you, Iggy.’

Ignis blinks. ‘I love you too, Noct. Why the sudden declaration of love?’

‘No reason,’ Noctis says evasively. Then a beat later. ‘Are we allowed to leave yet?’

Ignis’s laugh is rich and unexpected, easy as it is amused. ‘One more pass, Noct, and we can make our excuses.’

And as soon as they have, they disappear into the bowels of the Citadel. Safe in the private elevator, Noctis drops his stern kingly façade, and yanks Ignis into his embrace. The man is now exuding pheromones, a delightful woody scent that Ignis is so familiar with and loves so much. Their mouths are sealed together, and Noctis’s fingers have already found their way to Ignis’s buttocks.

Ignis shoves him back lightly. ‘Not in the elevator or the hallway, darling. Can we wait until we get home, please?’

Noctis responds by pushing him back against the wall, grinds up against him.

Ignis allows him access to his neck, that particular spot where Noctis has bitten him so long ago. His bow tie is dropped to the ground, and the the buttons of his collar forced open. The elevator doors open silently, and they are home.

He clamps his hand around Noctis’s wrist, quickly picks up his bow tie, and drags Noctis along, who insists on glueing his mouth against Ignis’s neck.

The apartment is quiet and eerily still. It is very early in the morning, an hour before dawn. The children are dead asleep, as are the rest of the pack. But Ignis’s ears perk up when he hears a soft moan. Still boyish and deep at the same time.

Ignis and Noctis follow it to Noctis’s bedroom, where there are two king-sized beds pressed up together. Most nights Prompto and Noctis sleep together, whereas Gladio and Ignis prefers to sleep alone. But on nights where they all want to stay together, this is the place. It is the one place that the children have been expressly prohibited to go, it is the one place that is their sanctuary, when they share their time and their love and their bodies.

And it looks like two members of their pack have already started the evening’s proceedings.

Prompto is on his back, arched in a beautiful, sensuous line. His eyes are blindfolded by black silk, and his hands bound together with the same silk. It’s one of Ignis’s favorite types of play especially with Prompto, who can be so submissive when he’s in the mood for it.

Gladiolus is gently stroking Prompto with his big hand, evidently torturing Prompto by denying him his orgasm. Prompto’s hips are in his lap, and he is slowly and gently shallow thrusting into the blond, who is moaning softly at the relentless edging.

Ignis excuses himself for a quick shower. He wants to wash off the cologne he uses to mask his omega scent, something he does in polite company. Many people are still not used to omegas being in positions in power, and sometimes it is simply easier not to wave it in their faces.

But when he is with the men he loves, he wants his scent to be bared to them. His natural sweet scent, once a source of angst and frustration and shame, now something that he had made peace with, even liked. It had brought him children, it had brought him this life with his men.

By the time he makes it out into the bedroom, Prompto’s soft cries are muffled by the fact that his mouth is occupied with Noctis’s cock. Noctis thrusts deeper, choking Prompto, while Gladio rams into him from the other end.

A flare of desire rushes into Ignis. Sometimes he thinks that the three of them torturing Prompto is one of their favorite pastimes, because Prompto is lustful as he is responsive, and he reacts so sweetly and lewdly to whatever treatment they care to inflict on him. Prompto is as sweet as Ignis is serious, as soft where Gladio is tough, as open as Noctis is reserved. Simply put, he is not like them at all.

He is as bright as sunshine, but in bed he is as sexy as an incubus, as enthralling as a siren.

For a moment Ignis wonders where he will fit into this jigsaw puzzle of flesh, but it comes to him almost immediately. He feels the slick spilling from his secret place of pleasure, and he gently climbs onto the bed. Gladio welcomes him wordlessly, drawing him into his arms for a kiss.

Ignis lowers himself onto Prompto’s hard cock, using Gladio’s bulk as leverage. Even though Prompto’s mouth is busy, it doesn’t stop the low groan rippling down his eternally nubile body, and Ignis can feel the vibrations. He impales himself, thrusting up and down shallowly before seating himself fully.

Prompto’s stomach muscles are quivering underneath him, and Ignis feels a burst of pleasure feeling that. He stops kissing Gladio for a while, twists around to caress Prompto’s chest. The poor darling, blindfolded and bound, finding himself assaulted from three different directions. He must be feeling so full, so full right now.

Prompto’s hips twitch and jerk upward once, and Ignis swats his thigh gently. ‘Slow down, Prompto.’ He turns back to Gladio.

Gladio’s eyes are fully dilated with lust, and he bites down on Ignis’s neck. He sucks hard, and Ignis feels his blood begin to flow. Gladio is drinking from him, and not very gently either. But it’s what Ignis wants – something rough and deep and real to shift him from the stupor of the evening earlier.

He leans into the bite-kiss, then begins to ride Prompto. Gladio starts thrusting in tandem with him, and for a dizzying moment it’s almost as if Gladio is the one fucking him instead.

The long, drawn out moan that emerges from Prompto is tortured and agonizing, and Noctis gives him permission to come. Ignis tightens his muscles once, and Prompto spasms inside of him, thrusting wildly even as his release overtakes him. Noctis sighs, pulls out, presses a deep, demanding kiss onto Prompto’s mouth.

Prompto’s entire body is twitching, but Gladio keeps thrusting. Prompto’s mouth now free again, he half-screams his pleasure, safe in Noctis’s arms. Ignis detaches himself and leans forward, turning Prompto’s jaw to face him. Then he kisses him too, and he can taste Noctis and Prompto in that kiss. ‘I love you, Iggy,’ Prompto exhales in a shuddery, jittery breath, and it is clear that he is done for the night. Whatever Gladio had done to him before that, combined with the way the three of them had destroyed him means all he wants right now is to rest.

‘I love you, darling,’ Ignis says, and motions to his own neck. Prompto doesn’t need to be invited twice, and rears up to sink his teeth into Ignis’s flesh. He drinks and gulps clumsily, but Ignis doesn’t mind. Prompto takes his fill from Ignis, then collapses back into Noctis’s arms.

‘I’m done,’ Prompto says.

‘I know,’ Noctis says, and kisses Prompto’s temple.

‘I’m more tired than I was when I gave birth to the damned twins,’ Prompto says.

Gladio laughs. ‘That was Noct’s fault.’

Noctis affectionately runs his hand across Prompto’s forehead. ‘Come on, darling. I’ll clean you up.’

Prompto is already drowsing. ‘You guys carry on.’

Ignis shifts him onto the far side of the bed, and takes the warm wet towel that Noctis hands him. He patiently wipes up Prompto, but he isn’t too messy considering that he came inside of Ignis. As soon as he tosses the towel to the bedside table, Noctis pounces on him.

Forced onto his back, Ignis finds himself at the mercy of Noctis’s unexpended passion. Not even bothering with foreplay, Noctis fucks the living hell out of him, snapping their hips together, his fingers burning imprints onto Ignis’s skin.

Ignis pulls Noctis close, feeling him pound away. He curles his legs around Noctis’s back. He receives Noctis gently and gratefully, knowing that all Noctis is doing is pouring love into him like he is a receptacle. Even though it’s only been three days since they last fucked, Noctis is fucking him like he hasn’t done it for a year.

But then that’s Noctis. He doesn’t do things by halves when he sets his mind to it.

The pressure is building in his belly, with Noctis’s hand on his cock, twisting and stroking at a merciless pace. He can feel Noctis’s cock slamming into his prostate, and he shouts his pleasure, feeling himself melt into a puddle of neediness and lust.

Noctis rears back, flips Ignis on his belly, and fucks into him from behind.

Forced onto his knees, Ignis tries to hold on. He holds on until Noctis comes with a shout inside of him. When he pulls out, slick and semen drip down his thighs, and Ignis has never felt so full in his life. His thighs are shaking, and his entire body is on the verge of collapsing.

But it isn’t over for him.

No sooner than the very second that Noctis is done, Gladio practically rips Noctis off Ignis and he’s having his turn. Ignis doesn’t even have the strength to scream, because he himself is still too close to the edge. He can still feel Gladio’s bulk inside of him despite being loosened up by two different men before him, but Gladio is a different beast altogether.

‘No more,’ Ignis whispers, but Gladio pushes him down on his side, into the mattress. With one leg lifted in the air, Gladio fucks into him with ease. Ignis finds his own arms being held down by Noctis, who ignores his requests and plants sly kisses down his face, his neck, his shoulders. Ignis leans into the sensation of being held down, powerless, willingly captive, and gives it up to his orgasm.

He closes his eyes, feels himself being held by Gladio. Exhausted, happy. Spent, delirious. He curls up into sleep, and can feel Noctis’s back pressed against his, and in his own arms is Prompto, who is already dead to the world.

The sun has risen, and he can feel his limbs weaken as the stupor of sleep begins to overtake him. Safely ensconced and surrounded by the men who love him and is loved in return, Ignis falls easily into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always felt that this fic needed a better ending, one that had more resolution and cheer. So I set to writing a totally useless ten years later one shot to check in on our favorite characters. 
> 
> It's been a while since this fic ended, but if you've been one of the readers and remember this, then you have my sincere gratitude. I hope you have a wonderful year ahead of you.


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